ã€ŠThe Silver Curse [Ch 126 - 194 Stub Dec 13th]ã€‹


 Book 1: Chapter 1 - Youre A Horrible Pacifist

    ¡°I won¡¯t be fighting in the match today,¡± Rasp said. ¡°I¡¯m a pacifist now. In case you haven¡¯t heard.¡±

    ¡°You stabbed me with a fork at breakfast.¡±

    Rasp placed his hand on Faris¡¯s shoulder in the same manner others did to him when trying to convey a sense of reassurance. Faris¡¯s taut muscles flinched beneath the unwelcome touch. That was only fair, Rasp supposed. He had stabbed Faris at breakfast. But honestly, what did he expect after serving him a bowl of oversalted oat mush? If there was any real crime, it was Faris¡¯s idea of a hearty breakfast. ¡°That was a long time ago. I¡¯ve since realized the error of my ways.¡±

    Faris¡¯s voice was flat with disbelief. ¡°If I searched your pockets, I bet I¡¯d find another fork to stab me with the moment my back¡¯s turned.¡±

    ¡°Not true.¡± It was a butter knife, actually. And Rasp wouldn¡¯t wait for Faris¡¯s back to be turned. There was hardly a challenge in that.

    Faris, one of the many faun folk that resided in the village, produced a loud, breathy snort, accompanied by an irritated flap of his ears. It sounded like a leathery butterfly trying to take flight. One that gave up after a single snap of its useless wings, forced to concede that perhaps walking was the more practical option, after all.

    Rasp was human. In the isolated mountains where he had been raised, other than the occasional missing eye or amputated leg, his people lacked severely in the diversity department. Here, in the quaint little village known as Lonebrook, the citizens were a good mix of species, though the majority were fauns. After having spent every waking moment in the company of his keeper, Faris Belfast, Rasp had cultivated a rather detailed understanding of faun mannerisms. This particular sound meant the time to turn and run had been precisely thirty seconds ago.

    ¡°Bye!¡± Rasp spun sharply on his heel and hightailed it in the direction of the front door.

    ¡°Oh, come on. I just finished spot-cleaning the blood off my jacket from your last getaway. Why do you insist on doing this the hard way?¡± The faun¡¯s hooves clacked against the hardwood as he took chase. Reluctantly, from the sound of his slow, dragging steps. His voice reverberated along the narrow walls of the dim hallway, nipping at Rasp¡¯s heels. ¡°You can¡¯t see, idiot! This never works out for you!¡±

    The worn floorboards creaked underfoot as Rasp doubled his speed. Burnt incense, intermingled with the earthy undertones of faun musk, hung heavy in the air like stale clouds. He breathed the familiar scents in through his nose and out his mouth as the blurry green and brown tinted walls passed at a dizzying rate. Without warning, the heavy oak door swung open ahead of him with a raspy groan. A channel of harsh light poured in from the outside and illuminated the surrounding gloom.

    ¡°Gangway!¡± Rasp called to the fuzzy shape that took up most of the doorway.

    ¡°Mister Snow, you blind fool!¡± the washerwoman squawked as she scuttled backward in fright, hooves scraping the stone porch in her haste to escape the oncoming collision. ¡°You¡¯re going to be the death of me one of these days, I swear it!¡±

    Her squat frame, backlit by the gray light of the outdoors, had a peculiar lump protruding from her hip area that suggested she was carrying something. A basket, Rasp realized as he drew nearer. A maniacal smile formed across his face. ¡°Why, Miss Beechum, is that the freshly dried laundry?¡±

    ¡°You know it is, boy. And don¡¯t you even think about rolling in my clean sheets again.¡±

    ¡°Here, let Faris help you with that!¡± Rasp grabbed the reed basket from her and heaved it behind him. There was a curse, followed immediately by a dry crunch and heavy thump as Faris failed to dodge the basket on his way out the door. Not slowing his breakneck pace, Rasp cleared the stone steps in a single leap and landed ankle-deep in an icy puddle. Cold mud squelched between his bare toes as he forced his legs to move even faster across the slippery courtyard.

    Thlop, thlop, thlop. The sound of Faris¡¯s fast footsteps grew louder behind him. ¡°You¡¯re dead when I catch you!¡±

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    As far as escapes went, this one was poorly thought out. The courtyard of Belfast Manor was open and kept clear of obstacles. Navigating it would be a breeze. It was the woodlot beyond that presented a complication. Rasp didn¡¯t normally give problems much thought. For the most part, this tactic worked remarkably well for him. Right up until it came time to face said problem, which, alas, was now. The terrain underfoot shifted from mud to loose piles of slippery, wet leaves. Around him, the crisp air turned sharp with the lingering scent of decayed vegetation and damp soil.

    Faris¡¯s voice rang out from behind him with sudden urgency. ¡°Tree! To your left!¡±

    Rasp dodged right, narrowly missing the towering object that came into blurred focus far too late to be helpful. More trees cropped up along the edge of his murky vision, forcing him to slow his pace in order to avoid running face-first into them. ¡°I thought you wanted me dead,¡± he puffed, already beginning to feel the invisible fire that burned within his lungs. It tightened like a hot vise over his throat and clogged his airways.

    ¡°By my hand, obviously. There¡¯s no satisfaction in watching you get taken out by a tree.¡±

    Faris sounded nearer than before. Another cruel reminder that any moment now Rasp¡¯s keeper would be upon him and his sudden rendezvous through the woods would be cut regrettably short. There would be consequences for inciting a chase, of course. But it rarely amounted to anything serious. Despite Faris¡¯s threats, his people did things differently than the mountain folk. They were light-handed and used words in lieu of fists.

    Rasp didn¡¯t understand their peculiar ways any more than he had six months ago, when he first arrived in Lonebrook. There was something deeply unsettling about walking away with a simple telling off when he rightfully deserved a thrashing. At first, he mistook their gentleness for pity. It seemed plausible, given how helpless he was after the whole left-for-dead thing. But their treatment of him never changed, not even after he was strong enough to defend himself. Rasp had begun to wonder if they were taunting him. Treating him like an invalid as a reminder that he would never again be what he once was.

    Gods, Rasp thought. Is this who he was now? The mighty Rasp Stoneclaw reduced to being chased by a physically inferior opponent? And for what, a stolen butter knife? This was degrading. Downright humiliating, in fact. A year ago it was he who¡¯d held the power. In Rasp¡¯s prime, before the exile, the good folk of Lonebrook would have cowered in his presence. Now? Now they laughed. He, a formidable Stoneclaw warrior, the Iron Devil himself, was but a shadow of his former glorious might. And they knew it.

    A hand grabbed the base of his neck and yanked him backward. ¡°Caught you, you little¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still a Stoneclaw!¡±

    A properly executed back throw was a beautiful thing. The one Rasp attempted could only be classified as a thing. He seized Faris¡¯s hand and tucked it into position, then stopped, bent at the waist, and allowed the faun¡¯s momentum to send him hurtling the rest of the way over. Faris rolled over the top of him and struck the ground. As did Rasp, too, unfortunately, since their arms were still intertwined. The pair tumbled downhill in a flailing tangle of limbs and muffled curses through the slimy, leaf-littered muck, until at last they rolled to a stop with the aid of a very sturdy tree trunk.

    Despite the ache in his lungs and the sudden, excruciating pain that flared across the hinge of his elbow, Rasp recovered first. He clambered over Faris, clawing, punching, grabbing at whatever he could find. ¡°And stop calling me little! I¡¯m bigger than you!¡±

    ¡°Not where it counts.¡± Faris¡¯s knee shot upward and slammed into the delicate spot between Rasp¡¯s legs. The impact stole the last of the air from Rasp¡¯s battered lungs.

    Rasp wheezed, unable to speak as he slowly listed to the side. He struck the cold forest floor in a splatter of wet leaves and mud. No matter how vehemently he willed his legs to get up and take flight once more, the fight was gone. The festering rage that boiled deep within his gut settled to a gentle simmer as pain took up its place. Rasp drew his knees to his chest and desperately tried to recall the steps necessary to breathe. Something about in and out?

    ¡°First of all, you¡¯re a horrible pacifist,¡± Faris panted. There was a noticeable pause as he sucked in enough breath to continue his rant. ¡°Secondly, you do not announce to the world who you are! Only my family knows. And for good reason. The townsfolk would hang you from the nearest tree if they knew who you were. Understand?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s agreement came in the form of a low-pitched moan.

    This was not good enough for Faris, who clamped his hand over Rasp¡¯s shoulder in a manner that was neither friendly nor reassuring. Painful was the foremost word that came to mind. ¡°So when people ask, you tell them your name is?¡±

    ¡°Snow.¡±

    Faris¡¯s grip tightened. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what was that?¡±

    ¡°Snow! My name is Snow.¡± Rasp batted him away with his hand and slumped back into the mud with a whimpered groan. At times like these, a little voice emerged in the back of his head. Not to offer comfort, of course, but to add a layer of insult to the steady stream of agony coursing through his already tormented body. Without hesitation, it slunk from the dark, unvisited corner of Rasp¡¯s mind and bared its ugly teeth.

    Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

 2 - Winds Of Change

    The breeze rattled the barren tops of the birch and poplar trees like a symphony of hollow bones. Leaves leftover from the autumn past, curled and slick with slime, tumbled lazily across the swampy ground, stirring the air with the growing stench of forest rot. The harsh call of a blue jay rang in the distance. Rasp, however, noticed none of this over his own pained wheezing. Save for one sound, which dragged him kicking and screaming from his internal wallowing.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t tell Father about this,¡± Faris snapped.

    The bolts of lightning slamming between his sore legs had lessened to a deep, throbbing ache. Hot tears stung Rasp¡¯s eyes as he managed to speak around shaky gasps. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t tell him you whore me out for fights!¡±

    Faris¡¯s father, the esteemed Judge Trant Belfast, served as the elected official for the sleepy village of Lonebrook. A former soldier turned peacekeeper, Trant had been attempting to teach Rasp the joys of reformation and what it meant to embrace a future without violence. The judge¡¯s efforts, albeit noble, had fallen largely on deaf ears. Rasp could strive to be a better person, sure. But violence was a basic tenet of being a mountain man. And as much as Rasp enjoyed protesting Faris¡¯s arranged fights, he enjoyed the actual fighting even more.

    ¡°Go ahead, tell him,¡± Faris said. ¡°He¡¯ll have no choice but to appoint you a new keeper. And let¡¯s be honest here, you¡¯re a handful. The whole village knows it. No one would accept. Father would be forced to take up the position himself. Do you really want to spend your days listening to him drone on about the philosophies of the enlightened mind? Or would you rather stir up shit with me?¡±

    Rasp decided no answer was better than confirming what Faris obviously already knew.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡±

    The sensible thing would have been to let it go. Sensible, however, was not how Rasp had ended up as a long-term guest of the Belfast household. A guest who couldn¡¯t leave or go outside to take a piss without someone hovering over him, for that matter. Rasp raised his head from the cradle of his arms and hawked a glob of phlegm in the vicinity of what he hoped was Faris¡¯s smug face.

    ¡°Gods dammit!¡± There was a rustle of damp foliage as the faun scrambled backward out of spitting range. ¡°What is with you today? You claim you don¡¯t want to fight, but you¡¯ve been trying to pick a scrap with me since breakfast. The whole reason for the matches is to vent your rage in a controlled environment. Which you love, by the way. Why are you acting like an ungrateful brat all of a sudden?¡± Why indeed?

    An uneasy feeling had been gnawing at his insides all morning, hanging heavy in his soul like a black cloud on the horizon. Rasp could feel the winds of change stirring. What exactly it would bring, he didn¡¯t know. His life in Lonebrook wasn¡¯t anything spectacular. But it was a life, at the very least¡ªa living, breathing one that allowed him to exist outside the confines of a prison cell. Something worth celebrating, really, considering his people wanted him dead and his enemies wanted him deader. A quiet existence in Lonebrook was the absolute best his outcast ass could hope for.

    Rasp couldn¡¯t say any of this, of course. Faris wasn¡¯t born the cursed offspring of a mighty Stoneclaw leader. He wouldn¡¯t understand. And there were some things that just couldn¡¯t be explained to outsiders. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re yammering on about. The only thing troubling me is my stomach. Must be those oats you tried to poison me with earlier.¡±

    ¡°Fine, don¡¯t tell me,¡± Faris said. ¡°If you want to avoid the subject so badly, we¡¯ll get right down to business. You¡¯re still fighting in today¡¯s match. And we¡¯re headed there next. But first, you¡¯re gonna hand over whatever it is you stole.¡±

    Or I¡¯m going to kick you in the gems again was the part Faris didn¡¯t need to say. Stifling a groan, Rasp eased upright and searched his pockets. He produced a spoon, a butter knife, and what he suspected was a little tidbit of jewelry, and deposited them into Faris¡¯s outstretched hand.

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    ¡°This is Mum¡¯s earring. She¡¯s been looking for this one,¡± Faris said with a remarkable lack of accusation in his voice.

    Rasp was a thief, yes, but not of jewelry. And certainly not anything belonging to Faris¡¯s saint of a mother, Novera Belfast. Rasp only pocketed things of the sharp, stabby variety. The earring was something he¡¯d simply picked up during one of his restless nights wandering the halls while the rest of the household slept, pleasantly unaware of his nocturnal activities.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you find it?¡± Faris asked.

    ¡°In my foot.¡± That was the trouble with wandering without shoes. You found a lot of interesting things with the bottoms of your feet. The earring hadn¡¯t been nearly as bad as the time he found the lost embroidery needle.

    Faris pried Rasp¡¯s fingers back and placed the earring in the center of his palm. ¡°You¡¯d make her day if you returned it to her. She might even bake those sweet buns you like so much.¡±

    ¡°I was waiting for the right moment.¡± Rasp had hoped to give it to her in private, away from the watchful eye of her son. While he normally enjoyed Faris¡¯s relentless taunting, sometimes it reminded him too much of home. Faris was like the unofficial seventh brother that Rasp neither wanted nor asked for, but got all the same. ¡°She seemed sad the last few days. Did you notice?¡±

    Faris produced a hoarse laugh from the back of his throat as he reached under Rasp¡¯s arm and heaved him upright. ¡°The Iron Devil¡¯s got a soft spot for my mum. Who would have thought?¡±

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve just got a soft spot for her buns.¡± Rasp ducked to the side to avoid Faris¡¯s upcoming slap. He was semi-successful; Faris¡¯s hand glanced harmlessly off Rasp¡¯s shoulder. He spun out of range, throwing his arms out at his sides in a playful manner. ¡°What? I can¡¯t help it. They¡¯re so warm and buttery. Don¡¯t get me started on the sticky sweetness. It¡¯s no wonder your father hoards them all to himself.¡±

    The faun¡¯s stocky shape bridged the distance between them in a single lunge. ¡°If I hear another word out of your mouth about my mum, I¡¯m going to jump into that ring and kick your ass myself.¡±

    Rasp linked his elbow with Faris¡¯s and started off at a clumsy skip, not entirely sure what direction he was supposed to be going. He picked one nevertheless, certain Faris would correct their trajectory along the way. ¡°Don¡¯t make promises you can¡¯t keep, Dingle. It¡¯s cruel to keep stringing me along with that same empty threat, you know.¡±

    ¡°Stop prancing and save your energy for the match. I don¡¯t want another repeat of the woodcutter incident.¡±

    Rasp slowed his pace to match Faris¡¯s. He did so not out of obedience, but for the fact that he¡¯d tweaked his knee in the tumble and skipping sent jolts of white hot agony up his thigh with every unnecessary bounce. A point in the favor of his opponent, he supposed. Rasp rarely lost a match. Maybe today would be some lucky sap¡¯s day. Maybe Rasp would lose on purpose, just to stick it to Faris.

    ¡°The woodcutter? I won that one.¡±

    ¡°You bit the man¡¯s ear off! I had to pay him half the pot to keep his mouth shut. You revert to dirty tricks when you¡¯re tired. Which is great for the crowds, don¡¯t get me wrong. Half the people are there just to see what stunt you¡¯re going to pull. But you¡¯ve got to rein it in a little. We¡¯re starting to draw attention.¡±

    It was only the tip of the ear, technically. Not the whole thing. And Rasp had been generous enough to spit it out and give it back afterward. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°Who¡¯s on the chopping block today?¡±

    ¡°The blacksmith.¡±

    ¡°Again?¡± He would have thought the smith had learned his lesson by now. There were only so many times you could have your nose broken before you realized that fighting wasn¡¯t your forte. The blacksmith outmatched him in both size and strength, but Rasp hailed from the Iron Ridge. Combat was his people¡¯s favorite pastime and as such, mountain folk warriors were downright vicious. As were their healers and foragers and schoolteachers. Gods above, even the babies could bite off an unsuspecting finger when they wanted.

    Faris¡¯s gruff voice cut back in. ¡°I suspect the blacksmith is out for revenge.¡±

    ¡°It was just a nose break!¡±

    ¡°Not for that. It was the hickey you planted on his neck afterward. His missus wasn¡¯t very pleased. Seamus had to spend the next week sleeping in the forge, from what I heard.¡±

    A snaggletoothed grin spread across Rasp¡¯s thin mouth. ¡°So you¡¯re saying I should rub some lip color on his collar this time? Dingle, you devious little cuss. You really shouldn¡¯t encourage me this way.¡±

    Faris hooked his arm tighter and pulled Rasp along the slippery trail with a grunt. ¡°Just focus on winning the match, alright? Seamus is not as twisted as you are, but he is bigger. And he¡¯s going to come at you with everything he¡¯s got.¡±

 3 - Fight Like A Man

    Seamus gave the fight his all. It was a pity that his all amounted to all of nothing. Bigger wasn¡¯t always better, not when your opponent could simply sidestep you at every turn. Which, given Rasp¡¯s inability to see most of what was going on, succeeded only in making the blacksmith angrier. Rasp, standing with his thumbs hooked into his pockets, allowed Seamus to do the majority of the work. Each time the faun charged, Rasp waited until the last possible second to duck safely out of the way. It was a continual dance. Left, right, back and forth, Rasp strung him along, purposefully stoking his opponent¡¯s mounting frustration.

    ¡°Stop moving and fight me like a man!¡± Seamus bellowed.

    ¡°I am fighting you like a man.¡± Rasp rocked back on his heels and cracked a grin. ¡°We like to dance around the issue until the other party gives up. Did no one tell you?¡±

    This quip earned several drunken guffaws from the surrounding crowd. Faris had been right. There were more villagers present than usual. Rasp wasn¡¯t sure how many exactly, as their shapes all melded into a continuous gray blur around him. But he could pick out individual voices he hadn¡¯t heard before. The smell, too, was worse. Someone near the orchard end had already vomited on their neighbor¡¯s shoes.

    Seamus emitted a frustrated snort and charged. While Rasp couldn¡¯t pick out the finer features of his opponent¡¯s face or clothes, it was hard to miss the imposing brown shape growing noticeably larger in his limited field of vision. With the blacksmith all but blinded by rage, Rasp made his move at last. He faked right and then ducked, taking the faun down with a sweep of his leg.

    Rasp dropped into the mud and caught Seamus from behind. Seamus flipped onto his back, but it didn¡¯t matter. Rasp¡¯s legs were already wrapped over the faun¡¯s chest. He locked his ankles and secured Seamus¡¯s head with one arm while clamping down over his throat with the other. This was no longer a fight, but a test of endurance. Specifically, if Rasp¡¯s strength would outlast Seamus¡¯s need to breathe.

    The heavyset faun¡¯s muscles twitched beneath Rasp. Already, he could feel Seamus¡¯s strength begin to sap. Only a few seconds more, and it would all be over. The smell of sweat and faun musk permeated Rasp¡¯s nostrils and trickled into his mouth, coating his tongue in a salty, gag-inducing film. The edges of his mouth began to water as that morning¡¯s oat mush threatened to make a reappearance.

    Gods, not now, Rasp pleaded. His antics were only entertaining if they were at someone else¡¯s expense. Vomiting now would only ensure the majority of the splatter ended up on himself. He wanted the crowd to laugh with him, not at him.

    ¡°Mister Snow.¡± A stern voice cut through the ruckus with the weight of a sledgehammer. The crowd went eerily quiet until the only sound Rasp could hear was the snap of brittle twigs underfoot as the speaker drew nearer. ¡°Kindly release Seamus. The doctor has already made three house calls this week. Let¡¯s not waste her time with another.¡± Shit.

    Rasp was all smiles. Like a puppy eager to show off its newest trick, he rolled away and left his opponent facedown in the mud, gasping for breath. He shot upright and attempted to dust the grime from his trousers, succeeding only in smearing it further into the grain of the thick wool. ¡°Nice day for a stroll, sir?¡±

    Judge Trant Belfast¡¯s voice was flat with irritation. ¡°Where is your keeper?¡±

    Rasp gripped the wet soil between his toes as he considered which direction to run. The surrounding landscape was uneven and riddled with white spruce and poplars. While inconvenient, the trees were the least of his worries. It was the inconspicuous hazards like upturned roots, ground squirrel burrows, and the occasional steep cliffside that presented the true peril. As much as it pained him to admit, Rasp stood a better chance of talking his way out of trouble. A feat he was well practiced in, except the part where anyone believed him. Particularly Judge Belfast.

    ¡°Who, Faris?¡± Rasp said. ¡°I think he fell down a well somewhere. These nice people offered to help pull him out. But then Seamus and I got into a bit of a disagreement over who got to carry the rope. That¡¯s what you walked in on, in case you were wondering.¡±

    ¡°Are you finished?¡± Trant asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Is it working?¡±

    There was that damn snort again. Followed closely by an ear flap. And then a hoof stomp. Oh dear gods, the holy trifecta. Trant wasn¡¯t just mad, he was positively fuming. Rasp wondered if this would be enough to make the judge reconsider his stance on pacifism.

    Faris was going to owe him big for this. Rasp didn¡¯t take responsibility for his own actions, let alone someone else¡¯s. ¡°Oh, alright. You caught me. He didn¡¯t fall down the well. I pushed him.¡±

    If Faris had any sense at all, he¡¯d be halfway back to the house by now. He was a survivor who, above all else, valued self-preservation and knowing the precise moment to slip out the back unnoticed. Which failed to explain why the idiot chose that moment to step forward from the crowd and accept his fate. ¡°You can stop now,¡± he said, placing his hand on Rasp¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m here, Father.¡±

    Trant¡¯s calm voice sent a chill up Rasp¡¯s spine. ¡°Out of the well so soon?¡±

    ¡°It was more of a trough, really.¡±

    ¡°I came to check on this so-called training regimen of yours. Imagine my surprise when I found not an exercise yard, but an unauthorized gambling operation. I suppose it explains why half the village is sporting mysterious bruises.¡± Before Faris could interrupt, Trant continued, ¡°At least tell me you split the earnings. Your ward is doing most of the work.¡± ¡°I¡ªuh,¡± Faris stammered.

    ¡°Snow, has Faris been giving you a fair share?¡±

    Rasp paused to consider his answer. Judge Belfast had most definitely laid a verbal trap for him to stumble into. Alas, the only way for Rasp to find it was to fall in headfirst. A nervous grin spread across his muddied face. ¡°He pays me in buttons, actually. He doesn¡¯t think I know the difference.¡±

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    ¡°You never complained before!¡±

    With a wearisome sigh, Trant turned and addressed the crowd. ¡°Go home, all of you. If you have time to stand around then you¡¯re not busy enough. Anyone caught out here again will be assigned extra work duties.¡±

    The blurred shapes around them shifted, moving as one back through the sparse orchard toward the main path. The clearing grew eerily quiet once more. Rasp rolled his weight from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly exposed. Trant and Faris spoke softly beside him, but he didn¡¯t catch a word they said. The skin on the back of his arms prickled as he tilted his head this way and that, listening for a sound that was not there. Something was wrong.

    The croak of a raven echoed between the trees. Alas, there wasn¡¯t time to decipher its warning call. Trant¡¯s gruff voice snapped Rasp back to the present. ¡°Hold out your hand, Snow.¡±

    Rasp curled his fingers in hesitation. Why? Was he going to slap it? Cut it off, perhaps? That didn¡¯t seem very pacifistic. Maybe he¡¯d finally succeeded in pushing the judge over the moralistic cliffside. After a few agonizing seconds of deliberation, Rasp raised his hand in front of him.

    ¡°Palm up, boy.¡±

    Rasp twisted his hand into the correct position and was taken aback when the judge deposited something cold and clinking into it. A fistful of coins, he realized. Collected from Faris¡¯s money purse, no doubt. What in the realm was this?

    ¡°In the future,¡± Trant said, ¡°if you let my son take advantage of you, at least make sure you¡¯re getting a share.¡±

    Rasp sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. ¡°I¡¯m very confused right now.¡±

    ¡°Did you just pocket my half?¡± Faris said to his father.

    A sharp snort from Trant silenced his son¡¯s protests. ¡°Take Snow back to the house and get him presentable. We have guests,¡± he added, with a tone Rasp couldn¡¯t quite pin down. ¡°And for the gods¡¯ sakes, take him the back way. I can¡¯t afford for the two of you to be seen like this.¡±

    With a meek acknowledgment to his father, Faris hooked his arm through Rasp¡¯s and escorted him from the clearing. The journey was as awkward as it was quiet. For a long while, the only sound between them was the occasional splash of a puddle underfoot. They were already halfway, having cut through the back apple orchard and nearing the garden that was presently little more than an empty stretch of frozen dirt, before Rasp found the courage to speak.

    ¡°How dead are we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Faris murmured. ¡°That didn¡¯t go anything like I expected.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe he didn¡¯t hit you.¡±

    ¡°Father¡¯s never hit me.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Rasp concluded, ¡°explains why you turned out so rotten.¡±

    This earned a lackluster shove from Faris. His heart wasn¡¯t in it though, as made evident by the fact that Rasp was still standing. ¡°What¡¯s your excuse then? Hit too many times?¡±

    Not hard enough, Rasp¡¯s father would have said. That was probably the most confounding piece to this puzzle of a situation. Like Trant, Rasp¡¯s father had also been the leader of his people. But the two men¡¯s approaches to discipline were as different as night from day. Paler Stoneclaw had ruled with an iron first. Honor and duty came before all else, including his sons. Judge Belfast may not have understood Faris, but he didn¡¯t spend his every waking moment tearing him down one fault at a time. Beneath all the bickering, Rasp swore the two actually liked each other. A fact he still couldn¡¯t seem to wrap his mind around.

    ¡°Faris!¡± a gentle voice hissed, tearing Rasp from his thoughts.

    Faris jerked to a stop. ¡°Mum?¡±

    Novera Belfast¡¯s voice came from within the blurry tangle of shoulder-height shrubbery located to their right. ¡°In the thicket, dear. You¡¯ll have to come to me, I¡¯m afraid. It¡¯s best if I¡¯m not seen near the house.¡±

    Faris released his grip on Rasp¡¯s arm and grabbed his hand instead, pulling him into the very heart of the twisted nest of interwoven branches and brittle twigs. Rasp considered making a snide comment about the unexpected hand holding, but the thorns that tore at his bare arms and face sufficiently distracted him from doing so.

    Faris didn¡¯t appear to mind. With his fist locked around Rasp¡¯s hand, tightening each time his ward pulled in the opposite direction, Faris plowed a path through the thicket and delivered them safely onto the other side. Rasp¡¯s only consolation was that the ground here was less thick with stabby vegetation. He felt Faris¡¯s grip lessen and ripped free, muttering as he picked the thorns from his abraded skin.

    ¡°You¡¯re wearing your travel clothes,¡± Faris whispered, his hoarse voice marked with sudden urgency. ¡°Mum, what¡¯s going on? Why are you leaving? It¡¯s not seekers, is it? It¡¯s too early in the season for them to be here.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not from the division, no,¡± Novera said. Her scruffy shape was roughly the same height as Faris¡¯s. For some reason, Rasp always envisioned her taller. It was the demeanor, he decided. Novera had the temperament of a housecat. Warm, affectionate, and capable of sending the entire household scurrying like a nest of plague rats with a single hiss. ¡°Your father asked me to take my students into the hills as a precaution. I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ll be away. I¡¯m sorry, I wish I had more time. I only wanted to say goodbye.¡±

    Faris staggered forward and enveloped his mother in what Rasp assumed was a heartfelt embrace. That, or they were trying to strangle each other in the most inefficient way possible. Rasp shuffled his aching feet and tilted his head in the other direction, silently wishing Faris had left him on the path. He didn¡¯t like this sort of thing. The way their voices cracked with unabashed emotion, the crying, all that disgusting snuffling¡ªit left him uneasy. Like a turtle without its shell.

    Faris¡¯s and Novera¡¯s hushed conversation shifted to goodbyes as Rasp¡¯s thoughts turned inward. He had overheard Novera and Trant arguing a few nights before. They weren¡¯t yelling, merely talking loud enough for a person creeping the halls to overhear. Rasp didn¡¯t catch most of what was said. He¡¯d heard Novera sobbing afterward, though. And the judge had been in something of a mood ever since. Was it somehow related to this?

    Rasp nearly jumped out of his skin when Novera clasped his hand with her own. Despite the lines that creased her calloused palm, her grip was as strong as his. ¡°I know you¡¯re not what everyone thinks you are,¡± Novera said softly. ¡°And there will always be those who won¡¯t accept you. Just know it gets easier once you¡¯re able to accept it yourself. No one wants to be the first break in the family chain.¡±

    Rasp stared up at the shifting gray light that filtered in through the hazy branches overhead. Novera often knew what she was talking about. He just wished, for the life of him, that he knew what she was talking about, too. His banishment from the Iron Ridge, maybe? It¡¯d hurt, sure, but Rasp was over it now. There was no sense in wallowing over a situation you couldn¡¯t change.

    Something about Novera¡¯s goodbye felt strangely permanent. ¡°Am I going to see you again?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, love. I wish I could take you and Faris with me, but I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not in the cards.¡±

    What an odd thing to say. Faris, he could understand. He was her blasted son, after all. Rasp was just an overstayed houseguest that may or may not have been a prisoner. Despite this, Novera was nice to him. Possibly the nicest anyone had ever been to him. But that didn¡¯t explain why she¡¯d take him with her, or why she was leaving in the first place.

    Maybe it was the same reason Rasp had been picking fights all morning. The apprehension in the air, the feeling that something was coming. Rasp could feel it stewing in his lower gut, twisting his intestines into knots as the dread slowly ate away at him from the inside out. Did Novera feel it, too?

    The scent of lemongrass and tears enveloped Rasp as Novera threw her arms around him with a sudden shaking shudder, whispering so only he would hear, ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll take care of my son.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter 1 - Rising Waters

    Veins of yellow light pulsed through the trembling rock, weaving across the walls of the cramped storeroom and out into the passage beyond, like shimmering streams branching from a river. A deafening rumble tore through the cavern seconds before the ground jolted beneath Oralia¡¯s feet with such force it nearly threw her off balance. She steadied herself, straining to listen over the rampant beat of her own heart as another section of the pass gave way farther down. Rasp¡¯s magic was the only thing keeping the rest of the cavern intact. Judging from the way the yellow light pouring from his body flickered and waned, it would not hold for long.

    Oralia¡¯s gaze dropped to Faris. The faun was crouched on the ground beside Rasp, doing whatever he could to ensure the witch¡¯s concentration did not slip. Oralia had stayed back with the pair to see that they were not left behind once the rest of the party had gotten through. It was a mistake she would not likely live to regret.

    ¡°We have waited long enough,¡± Oralia said. ¡°Anyone who is getting through the pass already has. We are leaving now.¡±

    ¡°You hear that, Dingle? Time to go.¡± Faris threaded his arm under Rasp¡¯s shoulder and attempted to heave him upright.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Rasp snapped, shrugging Faris off as he kept his palms planted against the floor.

    ¡°We have to go,¡± Faris insisted.

    ¡°You have to go! I can¡¯t.¡± There was a waver in Rasp¡¯s already strained voice. It was a sad, undulating note that felt unrelated to the fact he was holding up a mountain pass through sheer willpower and determination alone. ¡°It¡¯s slipping, Faris. I can¡¯t hold my magic and run. Go without me.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Go!¡±

    Faris swiveled his head in Oralia¡¯s direction. His pale eyes were wide with terror and pleading for something he dared not ask aloud. ¡°Then let someone else do the running for you. We¡¯re not leaving you.¡±

    How generous of Faris to volunteer her. As the faun did not appear to possess the ability to carry a full-grown human on his own, Oralia suspected the honor would be left to her.

    To the seventh realm of chaos with it! With the mountain coming down over the top of them, she didn¡¯t have time to argue. Oralia crossed the buckling storeroom in two short strides and stooped to throw the stubborn witch over her shoulder, when a second shockwave tore through the chamber, jerking her footing out from under her and knocking her to the ground.

    The storeroom rattled as a hairline crack split open across the ceiling, raining loose pebbles and debris over them. Oralia rolled onto all fours, coughing the dust from her lungs as her gaze followed the pulsing yellow light back to its source. Rasp was still bent against the ground, eyes screwed shut as he poured the last of his strength into keeping the storeroom from collapsing over them.

    Oralia reached for him a second time. Rasp sensed her nearing presence and bared his teeth threateningly. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it. Try to move me and you¡¯ll sever my connection.¡±

    Her hands froze midair, inches from his glowing body as the weight of his statement settled in her gut.

    ¡°Take Faris and get the fuck out of here already!¡± Rasp snapped.

    She knew well enough not to argue. Doing so would only waste time and Rasp¡¯s dwindling strength. Rolling to her feet, Oralia seized Faris by the elbow and dragged him toward the entrance. The faun fought, thrashing to escape her iron grip, but his physical prowess was pitiful compared to hers.

    Faris¡¯s hooves scraped futilely against the stone floor, attempting to slow their progress. ¡°We can¡¯t leave him!¡±

    It was not often that Oralia agreed with Rasp over anything, but for once the boy was talking sense. She pulled Faris along as she broke into a trot. ¡°I cannot move him, Faris. It will bring the entire cavern down if I try. At least do him the courtesy of making his sacrifice mean something.¡±

    She was almost to the doorway when a dark shape came bounding through. ¡°No time for that, swabbies. Get back!¡± Rali¡¯s voice rang out over the growing clamor. ¡°She¡¯s coming down!¡±

    Rali was barely inside when the passage gave out behind her. The earth rumbled and roared as the ancient supports finally gave way to the pressure. The insides of the mountain spilled forth, filling the empty passage as it caved in on itself. Oralia pulled Rali to her as the surrounding walls shook so fiercely, it rattled her clenched teeth together. There was no place to run, nowhere to hide. All Oralia could do was cover her head and wait for what she hoped would be a swift end.

    Splintered slabs of rock fell from the ceiling and struck the ground in bursts of razor-edged shrapnel. The shaking continued, and yet, the worst of it never reached them. Confused, Oralia tentatively slit her eyes open. A dull yellow light lit the gloom, highlighting the falling debris and shifting clouds of dust. Oralia found herself crouched at the center of the storeroom with Rali huddled into her and Faris balled at their feet. Rasp had moved from his original position and now knelt beside the trio with his hands braced against the buckled floor, screaming.

    Waves of dancing yellow light poured from his body and weaved into a tight, protective shell overhead, shielding them from the falling debris. The cavern chamber shook and shuddered in protest, but the magic, as stubborn as its wielder, held strong against the onslaught. Minutes passed before the mountain yielded. The quaking gradually died away until the only sound left was the hiss of falling dirt from the cracked ceiling above.

    With an agonized whimper, Rasp¡¯s arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed against the upturned ground. The yellow light dimmed as the tendrils of magic dissipated into dark nothingness.

    Oralia blinked as her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. Dust kicked up by the cave-in clouded the air. She pulled her tunic over her mouth and nose to keep from breathing in the worst of it. Unable to see more than a few inches from her face, Oralia groped the area around her for familiar bearings.

    ¡°Ow.¡± A pained voice came from the floor. ¡°Those are my fingers you¡¯re stepping on.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Faris.¡± Oralia lifted her boot, grateful that at the very least that the faun was alive and hadn¡¯t succumbed to shock. ¡°Can you reach Rasp? Is he alive?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure I¡¯m alive, to be honest.¡±

    ¡°You are speaking to me, Faris. I assure you, you are very much alive.¡± For how long, however, remained to be seen. Oralia kept that particular thought to herself. She left him to check on Rasp as she turned her attention to the other member of the party currently huddled against her. ¡°Ralizak?¡±

    Rali¡¯s fingers were dug so deeply into Oralia¡¯s waist, she could already feel the muscle bruising. The dwarf didn¡¯t reply. She only held on tighter, trembling.

    Oralia rested her hand lightly on Rali¡¯s head, unsure of what she could possibly say to comfort her. ¡°Rali, are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°I can hear them,¡± Rali whimpered with her face pressed into Oralia¡¯s flank. ¡°They¡¯re screaming and I can¡¯t reach them.¡±

    Apart from the occasional shift of rock, Oralia heard nothing. ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Udduc and Henog. I can¡¯t hear Fraegar anymore. She¡¯s gone quiet.¡±

    Oh gods. The collapse, of course. She should have known to send Rali ahead with the others.

    Oralia drew her arm over Rali, feeling the dwarf¡¯s shoulders rise and fall with each shaky sob. Rali wasn¡¯t in the present time. She was stuck years in the past, thousands of miles away, reliving the worst moment of her life. Red Rock, the famous breach¡ªhow Quartz Ralizak first earned her notoriety¡ª was not the glorious tale of heroism the realm painted it to be.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°I am here with you, Rali. You are not alone.¡± Slowly, Oralia eased them to the floor.

    ¡°They¡¯re all going quiet. Henog¡¯s crying but I can¡¯t hear Udduc anymore.¡± Rali pressed closer, sobbing, ¡°Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!¡±

    Rali was working as lead tunneler on the southwest shaft when the enemy broke through. She brought the shaft down to stop the invasion, with her and her crew still inside. Rali spent three days underground, listening to her friends die before the rescue team dug her out. She was the only survivor.

    Red Rock was the reason Ralizak refused to go back underground, why she awoke in the night screaming and turned to the bottle to get through the next day. It was the reason the other dwarfs hated her. The realm pretended the reassignment was a promotion, that serving under Oralia was some form of reward for Rali¡¯s bravery. In truth, it was the only option she had. No one else, especially not the dwarfs, would tolerate a glorified killer.

    Oralia gently pried one of Rali¡¯s hands from her side and searched her fingers. ¡°Where is your ring?¡±

    Tears streamed from the lieutenant¡¯s tightly closed eyes, leaving streaks on her dirt-caked face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry, Henog. I had to.¡±

    Faris¡¯s voice cut through the dark. ¡°She traded it for a handle of booze.¡±

    Oralia whipped her head at him, tusks bared. Her ferocity, alas, was wasted upon the faun, who could see no further than his own nose in the gloom. ¡°That was her grounding ring,¡± Oralia said, fighting to keep her voice calm for Rali¡¯s sake. ¡°She uses it for flashbacks.¡±

    ¡°Well nobody told me!¡±

    She and the young Belfast were going to have a serious talk about dealing contraband to an addict when they were through. Provided they got through. Oralia removed the pendant from her neck and cupped it in Rali¡¯s trembling hands. ¡°Open your eyes, Rali. What do you see?¡±

    The dwarf¡¯s reply came between fast, panicked gasps for air. ¡°A necklace.¡±

    ¡°Take a slow breath with me. Hold it.¡± They repeated the exercise three times, until Rali¡¯s breathing was less irregular. Oralia kept her voice calm yet firm, as if this was a perfectly ordinary exercise and they weren¡¯t trapped gods knew how far underground without any hope for rescue. ¡°Describe the necklace to me.¡±

    ¡°White gold chain,¡± Rali sniffled, brushing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. The effort left dark streaks across her dirtied face. ¡°Amorphous mineraloid gemstone.¡±

    Even in the midst of a flashback, a dwarf was still a dwarf. Oralia prompted her further. ¡°And to a layman you would call it . . . ?¡±

    ¡°A blue fire opal.¡± Rali turned the stone over in her dirt-smudged fingers. Her breathing was still unnaturally quick, but coming down. ¡°It¡¯s a good size, but the color¡¯s clouded. Usually you see a lot more blue and some green or violet. This one looks like it¡¯s turning gray.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t right. The stone was normally a bright sapphire blue. Oralia tilted her head to get a better view of the pendant held in Rali¡¯s hands as a new series of panicked thoughts rampaged through her head. Something was amiss. Was Whisper¡¯s magic thinner here? The Iron Ridge was named for its rich, mineral-laden rock. Was it possible that the iron was interfering with the power stored in the stone?

    There was another possibility as well. One she did not dare consider given their already bleak circumstances.

    ¡°I¡ªI know this necklace. My friend . . . she wears it.¡± Rali placed the opal into her palm and tapped it. When the stone stayed the same dreary color, she repeated the action several times more to no avail. ¡°I feel like something should be happening. Like someone should be shouting at me. Is this thing broken?¡±

    Oralia breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Rali was starting to come out of it. The severity of the attacks had lessened over the years. In the beginning, they¡¯d lasted hours. Now, with time and practice, Rali had found ways to bring herself around much faster. The issue of Whisper¡¯s fading magic, however, was an entirely different matter. Something that would have to wait until later, after their rescue.

    The rescue that Oralia was not so certain was coming.

    ¡°Uh, Protector?¡±

    Oralia lifted her eyes to look at Faris. With Rali recovering, she could at last focus her attention on the other downed member of the group. ¡°Please tell me Rasp is alive.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in and out of it, but he¡¯s still breathing at least. That¡¯s not the problem.¡± Faris posed his concerns as a question, as if hoping it was simply a figment of his imagination and not reality. ¡°Does the floor feel wetter to you?¡±

    Oralia felt the ground and winced, realizing that the buckled stone indeed felt wetter than it had mere moments before. The first rule of a cave-in was to stay where you were and await help. This, alas, did not apply to flooding. Through the shifting gloom, she could see the doorway was still intact. She only hoped the stairwell to the surface was in similar condition.

    Oralia jumped upright, her knees screaming, and pulled Rali with her. ¡°Up, Ralizak. We need to get to higher ground.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡± Rali gazed up at Oralia with a far-off look in her eyes, as if caught in a dream.

    Oralia¡¯s stomach dropped another rung lower. Although she was aware of her surroundings, Rali was still not processing the danger around her. Such inattentiveness did not bode well for an emergency evacuation.

    The dwarf lifted one boot curiously. ¡°Why are my feet wet?¡±

    ¡°There is a slight flooding issue.¡± There was no sense in making Rali panic. Faris was already doing enough of that for the both of them. ¡°We need to go up the stairs and find the exit. Can you walk, Ralizak?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather sit.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Oralia yanked her upright again. ¡°Do not do that.¡±

    ¡°Oralia,¡± Faris said, his voice wavering, ¡°I can¡¯t get Rasp to come around.¡±

    Perhaps it was a small blessing that the faun possessed horrible night vision, otherwise he would have seen the absolute despair etched across her face. Calm, Oralia told herself. You have to stay calm. At least on the outside, else everything will go to shit.

    Not that everything wasn¡¯t already shit. What was worse than shit? Oh yes, drowning. Definitely drowning.

    ¡°I will carry Rasp,¡± Oralia said. ¡°We are going to move single file. I hold your hand, Faris, and you hold Rali¡¯s. Do not let her sit.¡±

    ¡°Or we won¡¯t get her up again. And dammit, I can¡¯t carry two bodies!¡± was the part Oralia kindly left unsaid. Gods, she wished she had some rope.

    She¡¯d sent her pack on up with the rest of the supplies. A lot of good it did her now.

    Faris stood and shook the water from his left hoof. ¡°Is this a good time to point out the water¡¯s getting higher? We¡¯re at ankle height here.¡±

    ¡°I noticed. Thank you for your astute observation.¡± Oralia heaved Rasp¡¯s limp body by the arm and ducked low, slinging him over her shoulder. She reached for Faris and he squeezed her fingers so tightly she nearly snapped her tusks at him.

    No time for that, go!

    Water splashed underfoot as she sprinted through the narrow doorway and out the other side, pulling the others with her. The mouth of the cavern was completely caved in. She could hear the fast trickle of water worming its way through the rubble. This, she realized, was the source of the flooding.

    The foot of the stairwell was only partially obstructed. Oralia wedged herself between the fallen slabs of ceiling and led the others through. She bounded up the stone steps, grimacing as the muscles in her legs and lower back competed for the title of most abused. Faris kept pace. So much so, he kept accidentally nicking her in the back of her calves with his sharp hooves.

    Trouble up ahead caused Oralia to skid to a stop. Faris didn¡¯t react nearly as quickly and slammed into her. With his face firmly pressed into her lower back, Faris emitted a muffled ¡°Maybe warn me we¡¯re stopping next time?¡±

    She caught the wall and steadied herself, grateful the faun hadn¡¯t thrown her completely off balance. Oralia crouched lower and examined the break in the stairway. Even equipped with night vision, she was unable to see past a few yards of darkness, leaving her with the grizzly conclusion that the bottom was a very, very long way down. ¡°Some of the steps have fallen. The other side appears stable, but I cannot cross with all of you. You are going to have

    to jump, Faris.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    The sound of churning water below told her there wasn¡¯t time to consider an alternative course. ¡°You cross first and I will throw the others to you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like this plan.¡±

    ¡°Would you rather I throw you?¡± As much as Oralia tried to make it sound like a genuine offer, it still came across as mildly threatening.

    ¡°Not really.¡±

    ¡°You are a faun, Faris. You were born to do this. Take three steps back for a running start. Lift your feet high so you do not trip. Full speed. When I say jump, you jump.¡±

    Reluctantly, Faris let go of Rali and did as instructed. ¡°I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!¡± He screamed as he broke into a run.

    ¡°Jump!¡±

    The faun¡¯s hooves scraped against the rock one last time before he sprang high over her head and sailed across the gap. He struck the other side and slipped, coming to a grinding halt inches from the drop-off. To Oralia¡¯s relief, the staircase held beneath him.

    With Faris safely on the other side, Oralia turned her attention to the next person to brave the crossing. ¡°Ralizak, can you hear me?¡±

    The dwarf lifted her head, still oblivious to the danger. ¡°Huh?¡±

    Oralia draped Rasp¡¯s limp form over the stairs and checked to make sure her feet were firmly planted with her knees bent. She¡¯d left most of the heavy lifting to Curly since his enlistment. Gods, she hoped she didn¡¯t break her back attempting this. ¡°I am going to throw you across the pit to Faris, alright? If you get to the other side and start to slip, try to grab onto something. Preferably not Faris.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Rali snapped from her daze too late.

    Oralia heaved with all her might and threw the dwarf, perhaps too forcefully, into the awaiting arms of Faris. Faris didn¡¯t catch Rali so much as he cushioned her landing. They were both shouting incoherently at her by the time the pair had recovered enough to stand, but Oralia wasn¡¯t listening. She repositioned Rasp securely over both shoulders before skirting several steps back in preparation for her own running start.

    Her voice reverberated off the surrounding rock. ¡°I would advise getting out of the way.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit, she¡¯s coming in hot!¡± Rali scrambled up the stairs, hauling Faris by the elbow with her.

    Move, Oralia commanded, and her leaden legs obeyed. She pounded up the stone steps and pushed off, keeping her sights focused on her landing and not the dark, gaping chasm below. She came down on the other side with both feet planted below her, knees bent to absorb the impact. The staircase shuddered and groaned beneath her. Already, she could feel the fractured stone beginning to slide.

    Oralia forced one throbbing foot in front of the other. ¡°Go!¡±

 2 - Memory Ever After

    Fresh out of the mind fog, Rali grabbed Faris by the hand and led the procession up the stairs at a bounding sprint. ¡°Come on, bucko! Lift those knees or she¡¯s going to plow right over us.¡±

    Behind her, Oralia heard a rumbling crack as the lower portion of the stone steps broke away and fell into the rift below, bouncing against the sides until the clatter was swallowed by distance altogether. She didn¡¯t dare look back to see how much of the staircase was still intact. She kept her gaze straight forward and her concentration focused on lifting her feet high enough not to catch on the uneven steps as she hurtled upward. Rasp hung slack over her shoulder. His body was unnaturally hot, causing her to perspire more than the situation already demanded. Still, she would take a little sweat over kicking and screaming, and was relieved she did not have to make the death-defying escape with Rasp¡¯s running commentary in her ear.

    With the exception of a few dislodged boulders and the occasional shattered step, the rest of the climb went quickly. It wasn¡¯t until they turned the corner, where the doorway to the surface should have been, that death mocked them.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Rali panted as she slowed to a halt.

    ¡°What?¡± Faris whipped his shaggy head from side to side, attempting, unsuccessfully, to see what they were seeing. His nostrils flared in and out as he tested the air. ¡°What is it? I can smell fresh air. We¡¯re close, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Well, technically, yes,¡± the dwarf said grimly. ¡°Unfortunately, the doorway is about thirty feet above us. This part of the stairwell must have collapsed during the cave-in.¡±

    ¡°The lower stairs gave out just after we crossed.¡± Oralia sucked in lungfuls of dusty cavern air between ragged sentences. Her legs felt like thick jelly and the inside of her chest burned. Speaking only exacerbated the hot, smoldering sensation within her lungs, but she persisted in the unlikely event Rali or Faris panicked and tried to turn back. ¡°We cannot go back the way we came.¡±

    ¡°Take a breather, boss. I¡¯ll see if I can find us an alternate way out.¡±

    Unable to muster a verbal reply, Oralia merely nodded, watching as her lieutenant carefully picked her way across what remained of the damaged stairwell. Tapped for the foreseeable future, Oralia supposed it was as good of a time as any to lose the dead weight hanging from her shoulders. She bent and arranged Rasp onto the steps, ensuring any sudden movement wouldn¡¯t send him careening back down them. Finished, she stood straight and flexed her aching shoulder blades until they popped.

    Her gaze moved out across the gloomy destruction. The steps ended a few feet from where they stood, butting up against a mound of broken rubble, which stretched for ten yards or so before hitting a solid rock wall. Above them, a small length of the original staircase was still intact. It jutted out over the destruction like a tantalizing prize, just out of reach. Even if by some miracle they could access it, the exit beyond was blocked. Oralia could see small shafts of sunlight filtering in between the cracks from the other side.

    Rali returned from her search a short while later, delivering the grim report Oralia had already reached on her own. ¡°We can¡¯t go up and we can¡¯t go back down. Looks like we¡¯re stuck here for the meantime.¡±

    Faris stood beside Oralia, wringing his hands. He had his head tilted upward at the ceiling. ¡°The exit¡¯s just on the other side, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°What used to be the exit is just up yonder, yes,¡± Rali replied grimly. ¡°Doesn¡¯t appear to have held during all the shaking, though. Even if by some miracle we were able to get up there, we¡¯d have to tunnel our way out.¡±

    ¡°My point is, everyone who did get through is just on the other side, right? Wouldn¡¯t the logical thing be to call for help? Let them handle the tunneling part, maybe?¡± Before either Rali or Oralia could explain why this plan was less than ideal, Faris cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, ¡°Help! Can anybody h¡ª¡±

    Rali lunged forward and clamped her hands securely over his mouth, muffling the scream. ¡°Not a good idea, bucko,¡± she hissed. She tilted her head, scanning the surrounding walls for any signs of disturbance. The crumbling passage, fortunately, appeared unaffected by Faris¡¯s distress call. ¡°No loud noises from here on out. The vibrations of your voice are liable to trigger a second collapse. Let¡¯s avoid making Rali a dwarf pancake, alright?¡±

    ¡°But . . .¡± Faris pushed her hands away as his mind raced to come up with a viable solution. ¡°But . . . but how do we . . .¡±

    Oralia examined the nearest wall as she stretched her legs. The sides of the stairwell were smooth and shot straight up. Her sharp eyes scoured the stone siding for crags or footholds and found none. Even with the proper equipment, the walls would be near impossible to climb. ¡°We wait and hope someone on the other side of the doorway is working to dig us out.¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods.¡± Faris sank down, pulling his knees to his chest. ¡°We¡¯re dead. That¡¯s what you¡¯re saying, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Chin up, Faris. We¡¯ve got an ace up our sleeve, remember?¡± Rali¡¯s feet clomped lightly against the stone, echoing from one end of the cavern to the next as she moved to Rasp¡¯s side. With some effort, the dwarf sat him against the wall and jabbed her forefinger into his chest. ¡°Hey, you, bucko. Nap time¡¯s over. How¡¯s about you rebuild the steps or try lifting us to that platform up yonder, yeah?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s eyes flickered open briefly before his entire body slumped back onto the steps like the world¡¯s most dramatic puddle.

    Rali was having none of it. With stubborn determination, she seized him by the wrists and clapped his palms together. ¡°Come on, spark. Don¡¯t just sit there. Do something.¡±

    Curling his upper lip, Rasp awarded her a faceful of spit for her efforts.

    ¡°Leave him be, Rali.¡± Oralia grimaced as she kneaded the stiffness from her arms. The likelihood of someone coming to their rescue before the water reached them was slim. Still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to be a little more limber for whatever obstacle awaited them next. She severely hoped it didn¡¯t involve swimming. ¡°He has overextended himself. Upset him now and he is liable to bring the rest of the cavern down on top of us.¡±

    Magic was a give and take. Every time a witch accessed their power, there was a letdown period immediately after. The severity of the crash depended on the amount of energy expended. In Rasp¡¯s case, it was a small wonder the boy was still breathing. Not only had he held the pass aloft, but his magic had extended beyond the cave, lifting the boulders along the cliffside into the air as well. It was an amateur mistake, exerting one¡¯s power beyond the area of focus, but that didn¡¯t make it any less impressive. Oralia had seen more practiced witches drop dead from less.

    It was a shame his survival instincts were still holding strong. A sudden death from overexertion would have been a mercy compared to drowning. From below, accentuated by the cavernous quiet, the steady sounds of gushing water crept ever closer.

    Dread hung thick in the air like a swarming cloud of gnats over a swamp. Without light, Oralia was forced to rely on the encroaching waterline to gauge time¡¯s passing. It had been too long, she feared, watching the dark, lapping line as it climbed steadily higher. Help would not be coming. They would have heard something by now if it were.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The others seemed to sense their impending doom as well. They sat arranged along the upper steps, waiting in silence for the flood to claim them.

    Rasp stirred below. Having spent most of their stay drifting in and out of consciousness, he was finally coming around on his own. The man¡¯s lips curled into a grimace as he explored the area around him with his fingertips. ¡°. . . Where am I?¡±

    Faris¡¯s head was buried in his arms. He didn¡¯t bother to lift it, offering only a grim reply. ¡°Dead.¡±

    ¡°If that were true, you and I would not be in the same place.¡±

    ¡°The cave-in collapsed the exit. We are trapped in what used to be the upper stairwell,¡± Oralia answered, knowing he wasn¡¯t going to get much of an answer from the other two.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re here.¡± Rasp frowned. ¡°I guess this is the bad place.¡±

    Oralia resisted the urge to kick him. ¡°I just carried your carcass up half a mile of stairs.¡±

    ¡°And I held up a cave-in long enough for your people to get through. I think that makes us even.¡±

    ¡°A cave-in you triggered!¡± She froze, realizing she¡¯d said that louder than she¡¯d meant to. Her voice echoed along the cavernous stone walls, growing fainter in the distance before the eerie quiet returned. Oralia released her bated breath, relieved that the splintered ceiling had remained in place above them.

    Faris lifted his head from his trembling arms, mouth flared into a snarl as he glared in Rasp¡¯s general direction. ¡°Speaking of which, I¡¯m still mad at you for that by the way. I knew you were planning to ditch us, but would it have killed you to have pulled me aside for an actual goodbye? And not just an ¡®I hate you, Faris, name the dog after me?¡¯ Shameful!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Oralia¡¯s brow furrowed at his heated admission

    Faris, realizing this was perhaps the wrong thing to say in her presence, shrank back down, stammering, ¡°I mean, how dare you. I had no idea whatsoever. Bad Rasp.¡±

    Of course Faris knew Rasp had been planning to attempt something stupid.

    Not the time, Oralia decided. If she was going to die in the next hour, she wanted to do it with the least amount of bickering possible. Preferably no bickering at all. Was it too much to ask to simply drown in peace?

    ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t know about the swamplanders, alright? That wasn¡¯t part of the plan. I tried to hold the pass long enough for all of you to get through.¡± Rasp seemed to be directing this at Faris and possibly Rali, as Oralia doubted he truly cared what happened to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for you to get stuck down here with me.¡±

    Faris narrowed his eyes, which naturally had no effect as Rasp had no way of knowing. ¡°You knew you were going to get stuck, didn¡¯t you? You were practically begging us to leave you.¡±

    ¡°It was either you or me. I chose you. I can¡¯t help it that you three were stupid enough to try and pull me out afterward!¡±

    ¡°Stupid?¡± Rali balled her hand into a tight fist and drew back for maximum impact. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s it. I¡¯m going to cave your face in, you ungrateful shit!¡±

    ¡°Ralizak, no.¡± Oralia reached out and caught her lieutenant by the wrist. She suspected it was an empty threat, but the extent of Rali¡¯s recklessness had a funny way of surprising her. The last thing they needed was for the boy to accidentally finish what he had started. ¡°Hitting him solves nothing.¡±

    Rali wrenched free, massaging her hand as she grumbled, ¡°That¡¯s not true. It would definitely make me feel better. Who knows, maybe the little pervert would enjoy it as much as I would.¡±

    A glare from Oralia was all that was necessary to convince her lieutenant to drop the subject. Rali crossed her stubby arms with a harrumph. ¡°Can¡¯t fault me for trying to make it a little more exciting, you know. This isn¡¯t how I pictured it.¡±

    ¡°Pictured what?¡±

    ¡°Dying,¡± Rali said. ¡°I always imagined it would happen in battle. Blades swinging, blood gushing, the stuff they sing songs about. One moment I¡¯m on my feet, and the next, everything¡¯s growing fuzzy as my friends gather around me, telling me it¡¯s not my time yet. Suddenly, the warm and fuzzies set in and, as the world goes dark for the final time, the last words I hear are how great I am. How no one will ever be the same without me.¡±

    Her graphic imagery must have stirred something back to life in Faris. He shook his head at her, both ears flicking in irritation. ¡°Who in their right mind pictures their death? Much less like that?¡±

    Wordlessly, Rasp raised his hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that unheard of, bucko. Some of us just prefer to go out with flair is all.¡± Rali¡¯s gaze traveled the damaged stairwell as she spoke, eliciting a silent shudder that worked down her shoulders. ¡°Not in some quiet, dark tomb underground where no one can hear you.¡±

    Faris glared up at the ceiling with a sigh. ¡°Unfortunately, some of us can still hear you.¡±

    Dread must have been getting to her, because Rali refused to give in to the silence. Whether the others appreciated it or not, she remained bent on lifting the mood. That, or at least keeping the peace and quiet at bay for as long as possible. ¡°You know, being that it¡¯s the end and all and we¡¯re already on the subject, I suppose it¡¯s appropriate to ask if any of you believe in memory ever after?¡±

    No one responded. It was of no matter to Rali, who carried on without missing a beat anyway. ¡°Memory ever after is the orc equivalent of the afterlife, in case you didn¡¯t know. Except, instead of going into some magical beyond, you exist in a part of your own past. Essentially, right before you die, you think of your happiest memory. After you¡¯ve breathed your last breath, you wake up there and you get to relive it forever.¡± ¡°Does sound kind of nice,¡± Faris admitted.

    ¡°I thought so, too. Do you believe in it, Oralia?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Oralia answered before realizing perhaps the truth wasn¡¯t necessary.

    ¡°Alright, well we¡¯re going to pretend for however long we¡¯ve got left that you all do. Think of your best memory. I want details, people. Paint me a picture so I feel like I¡¯m there.¡±

    There was a general grumble of reluctance, but no one refused outright.

    Rali demonstrated by volunteering her version of the afterlife first. ¡°I want to go back to the time Mika Strongborn and I ran away and spent three days together, alone, in a cottage in the woods. It was pouring buckets outside, but inside the fire was roaring and we fell asleep each night listening to the rain.¡± Rali closed her eyes, smiling. ¡°Mika was my first love. He was young and dumb, but sweet. And his beard was so soft. I could bury my face in it forever.¡±

    Faris gawked at her, surprise written across his dirt-speckled face. ¡°I did not realize you were such a romantic.¡±

    ¡°Granted, that was before his mother kicked down the door and sent him off to work in his uncle¡¯s mine halfway across the territory,¡± Rali said absentmindedly. ¡°What about you, Faris? Where are you going to spend eternity? Fleecing someone? Rolling in a giant pile of money?¡±

    ¡°End of the week supper. The one right before the realm came knocking at our door. Back when things were simpler.¡± By the warm look on his face, he was there now, reliving it. ¡°The end of the workweek was the cook¡¯s days off and Mum always insisted we make one of the evening meals together as a family. Father and I had been fighting something fierce that week. But the rule was, no matter how bad the quarreling got, our differences were put aside until afterward.

    ¡°I got up early that day to help mum make the bread. Dinglehead was being as helpful as usual, so we stuck him on the opposite counter out of the way. Father came in a little later to start the stew. Mum kept distracting him with questions and every time he¡¯d go back to chopping, half of his diced vegetables would be gone. He got through an entire bunch of carrots before Father realized Rasp was tossing handfuls out the window whenever his back was turned. Mum laughed so hard she cried. Which got me going too, and before long everyone was on the floor ¡¯cause no one could stand. Father eventually composed himself and made a big show of banishing them to the parlor. It was only me and him after that. We spent the rest of the afternoon just us two in the kitchen. I can¡¯t for the life of me remember what we talked about, but for the first time in weeks, it didn¡¯t feel like there was an invisible weight hanging over us.¡±

    ¡°Your best memory is making dinner?¡± Rasp¡¯s muffled voice came from below. The Stoneclaw was stretched on his back across one of the lower steps, with his arms tucked behind his head, staring upward at nothing. ¡°Not even the best part, where you get to eat it. No, you want to live forever making it.¡±

    ¡°Some of us had a decent homelife, alright? And yes, I enjoyed spending time with my family,¡± Faris snapped. ¡°Now tell me yours so I can judge it just as harshly.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t have to. I¡¯m going to come back as a warbear and haunt the shit out of my brothers.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, Rasp,¡± Rali said. ¡°You¡¯ve got to have a happy memory in there somewhere. How do you want to spend eternity? Are you raiding a village? Doing despicable things to your penis?¡±

    ¡°Fine, what are the rules? Do I die knowing everything I know now? Or only what I knew in that moment?¡±

    ¡°You return as you were in the memory,¡± Rali answered. ¡°No knowledge of the future or the fact that you¡¯re dead.¡±

    The boy was quiet for some time, as though actually considering his answer.  At last, in a far-off voice, Rasp replied, ¡°Holding my son for the first time.¡±

 3 - Winter Solstice Eve

    Faris¡¯s ears twitched as he sat up with a start. ¡°You have a child?¡±

    Rasp, lost in the memory, spoke with an unusually peaceful expression on his scarred face. ¡°He¡¯s perfect. Tiny, with a little tuft of hair and the biggest brown eyes you ever saw. It¡¯s the middle of the night and we¡¯re in the rocking chair by the window, watching the snow fall. His mother¡¯s asleep in the bed across from us. She had a difficult birth, but she¡¯s okay now. My brothers have all tiptoed in to say hello. Even Father comes by and tells me I finally did something right. For the next few weeks, life is the best it¡¯s ever been.¡±

    ¡°You have a child?¡± Faris said again, this time louder. ¡°He¡¯s probably up at the Stoneclaw village right now and you¡¯re just content to lie here and die?

    Why aren¡¯t you fighting to get back to him?¡±

    ¡°I visit with him often enough.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Mother brings him with the rest of the flock sometimes.¡±

    ¡°. . . Oh.¡± Faris sank back down as the stiffness in his shoulders wilted. ¡°Oh muck, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t make it to spring. ¡®Failure to thrive¡¯ is what the healer called it. His mother couldn¡¯t stand to look at me afterward. Said it was the curse that did it. She picked up and moved right after.¡± Rasp¡¯s normally grating voice was as soft as a whisper. ¡°He doesn¡¯t remember who I am anymore. That¡¯s the problem with coming back as a raven when you die so young. Having not been in your body long enough, the human part won¡¯t stick. Probably for the best, really. One less person to disappoint.¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods, will you stop?¡± Rali said, wiping her grubby hands hastily under her eyes. ¡°Even your happiest memory is horribly depressing.¡±

    Rasp only shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re the one who asked.¡±

    ¡°Oralia, I know you don¡¯t believe in happily ever after, but you¡¯re going to have to give me something,¡± Rali said, still sniffling. ¡°Make it up for all I care, but gods dammit, don¡¯t mention any dead babies!¡±

    Oralia was seated on the topmost step above Rali and Faris. Below, through the creeping dark and scattered rubble, she could see the black water was already halfway up the stairway and rising. Rather than draw attention to it, she reached under her chainmail and withdrew a tarnished flask from the hidden pocket sewn into her tunic. Ignoring the teary-eyed look of indignation from Rali, Oralia took a swig, wincing as the bite of peppercorn brandy worked through her sinuses. She slumped lower, sighing, ¡°Sharing an eternity in a warm bed with Sascha sounds lovely about now.¡±

    ¡°Wait, hold up!¡± Rasp sat upright, pointing vaguely in her direction. ¡°First of all, I smell booze. Give it here. We¡¯re sharing. Secondly, you and the mountain are a thing? How is that possible? He¡¯s so nice! And you, well you¡¯re, ah . . . you.¡±

    ¡°Sascha tied you to a log,¡± Faris reminded him.

    ¡°Exactly! Had I shanked anyone else with a potato peeler, they would¡¯ve kicked my skull in.¡±

    Rali intercepted the flask on its way to Rasp and took a swig. With her pale face scrunched into a bitter grimace, she snarled, ¡°Gods, this stuff is the worst! This is why you drink it, isn¡¯t it? ¡¯Cause you know even I¡¯m not desperate enough to swipe it from you!¡± She took another fast slug with the same results as the first. Finished forcing the swallow down, she narrowed her red-rimmed eyes at Oralia accusingly. ¡°Now, let¡¯s circle back to that important bit. Are you finally admitting feelings for the fuckmate?¡±

    ¡°I said lovely, not in love.¡±

    Rali fended off Rasp¡¯s grabbing hands only to have her prize snatched from her clutches by Faris. Wiping the last of the moisture from her grime-coated cheeks, the dwarf turned back to Oralia and crossed her arms challengingly. ¡°I say this as your friend who loves you. You¡¯ve got to get over this personal hang-up of yours. Denying the existence of feelings does not make a person strong. True strength is acknowledging your emotions in spite of the possibility of rejection.¡±

    ¡°Gods, Rali,¡± Faris said. ¡°That¡¯s actually kind of insightful.¡±

    ¡°Well, obviously. I¡¯m not just all drunk and disorderly. I have layers too, you know!¡±

    Oralia tilted her head back and gazed up at the darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly overhead. It was not so much for the view as it was to avoid Rali¡¯s withering glare. ¡°Still not in love.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°And you¡¯re sticking with that?¡±

    ¡°Until the day I die.¡± Which, judging from the level of the steadily rising water, was not too far off.

    ¡°Fine, then your answer doesn¡¯t count. You don¡¯t get to settle for some mediocre afterlife just because it¡¯s quiet. Try again. I want to hear your best memory. And you better make it a good one, or I¡¯ll just annoy you until I can¡¯t speak anymore on account of the water filling my lungs.¡±

    ¡°You said I could make it u¡ª¡±

    Rali clapped her hands to drown out Oralia¡¯s protests. ¡°I don¡¯t care what I said before! I changed my mind. No made-up fantasies about warm beds and blankets and people you may or may not love. I want the real deal.¡±

    Alas, from her lieutenant¡¯s fixed expression, Oralia knew it would be pointless to argue. If this was their last moment together, she may as well make it worthwhile. ¡°Winter Solstice Eve.¡± She plucked the flask from Rasp and threw her head back, finishing it in a single slug. It burned like liquid fire the whole way down. ¡°That first year Curly joined the four.¡±

    They¡¯d gotten snowed-in in a remote village north of Sunstorn and had to spend the holiday trapped in a tiny cottage together. Curly, missing his family, was in the pits and could barely be roused out of bed. With nowhere to go, Oralia announced they would take the day off to celebrate.

    Ellisar slipped out through one of the top windows of the cottage and came back lugging the top of a spruce down the stairs with her. The decorations were left to Oralia, who regrettably could not recall the steps required to fold the paper lanterns. In the end, most of them resembled crumpled snot tissues more closely than lanterns, but it was the thought that counted, surely. While Oralia cursed over bits of paper, Snag and Rali scrounged the pantry for whatever ingredients they could throw together for a last-minute feast. If she remembered correctly, the menu included such oddities as reconstituted pork strips with a side of apricot preserve, mushroom-and-pickle turnovers, and a host of intricate hors d¡¯oeuvres that looked far prettier than they tasted.

    A cough from Rali drew Oralia back to the present, reminding her that she was supposed to be saying all of this out loud. ¡°The food was barely edible and my attempt to decorate was even worse. The only thing I remember being good was the apple cider. I was three cups in before I realized Snaglebrag spiked it.¡± After that, their quiet, awkward evening took a turn for the unexpected. Snag, to this day, declared his innocence, insisting it was one of the others who tampered with his cider. No one, naturally, ever came forward to claim responsibility.

    ¡°Gods, that was the only time any of us ever saw you absolutely smashed. You were so fun,¡± Rali laughed. ¡°I convinced you to sing sea shanties with me, remember? You knew the harmony, but not the words, so we just made them up as we went.¡±

    ¡°And then you had us falling out of our chairs with your impressions.¡± Oralia had particularly enjoyed Rali¡¯s impression of her, which involved a very thorough run-through of Oralia¡¯s many facial expressions. The more memorable titles included ¡®someone shut this idiot up,¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t care who designed the bodice, I¡¯m not wearing it,¡¯ and Oralia¡¯s personal favorite, ¡®for the love of gods, Ellisar, stop stealing the silverware.¡¯

    ¡°Oh, and the presents! El gave us all presents. Do you remember that?¡±

    ¡°Yes. All items she had stolen from us over the years, returned and wrapped with sprigs of holly.¡± Oralia covered her face, surprised by her unexpected smile. ¡°I got the key to my apartment. What did you get?¡±

    ¡°All the pages she¡¯d ripped out of my books over the years. They were all the naughty bits, too. Story¡¯s not the same without all those, you know.¡± Rali rolled her head back, groaning, ¡°Oh my gods, the pipe. She gave Snag his pipe back and he played that wretched thing all night.¡±

    Oralia peeked at Rali through her fingers. The smile on the dwarf¡¯s rosy face was real, just like her own. ¡°How did we get him to stop? I do not recall.¡±

    ¡°You plucked him from his chair, determined to teach him to dance. When Snag eventually escaped into the rafters, Ellisar cut in and the two of you waltzed for hours. I got Curly to twirl with me a few times, but we kept tripping over each other¡¯s feet and ended up on the floor. Somehow it turned into a wrestling match.¡±

    Outside the cottage was dark, but inside, by the light of the hearth, spirits were high. The smell of cinnamon and fresh spruce permeated the air. Oralia remembered the sounds of laughter, lots of slurred cursing, and filthy jokes, accentuated by the soft squeal of Snag¡¯s pipe in the background. For the first time in many years, home felt a little closer. They¡¯d done it for Curly. But now, sitting in the dark of a collapsed cavern with water steadily rising below, Oralia realized she¡¯d needed it just as much as he had. There had never been time for family. And the game she played was too dangerous for friends. Her faithful four had somehow filled the void. She would be lucky to spend eternity with them.

    ¡°Is it too late to change my answer?¡± Rali said, lifting her head hopefully.

    ¡°I mean, if you don¡¯t mind sharing it with me?¡±

    ¡°You are going to give up Mika Strongborn for us?¡±

    ¡°Eh, it was young love. Before I realized a full beard and shiny helm didn¡¯t make up for a milquetoast personality.¡±

    ¡°Happy to have you, as always.¡±

    ¡°Gods almighty!¡± Rasp gagged. ¡°Faris, is the water high enough for me to jump in yet? I¡¯d rather get it over with than to listen to this heartfelt crap.¡±

    ¡°Will you shut up?¡± Faris said.

    ¡°I forget, you¡¯re a sap for this cutesy family stuff, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°No, I mean actually shut up. I think I hear something coming from the other side.¡± Faris jumped upright and signaled for the others to remain quiet. His next words seemed directed at Rali. ¡°Permission to yell now? Or are you still concerned about spending the afterlife as a pancake?¡±

    ¡°Just try not to bring the whole mountain down.¡±

    Faris cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, ¡°Here! We¡¯re in here!¡±

    Oralia craned her head and listened. The digging grew louder until a significant clump of dirt and rubble fell away, allowing a shaft of light through. There was some muttered cursing as part of the hole caved back in. After a few more minutes of furious digging, the opening was large enough for a lithe figure to wriggle through. Dropping to his belly, their rescuer slid out onto the remaining strip of platform and peeked his head tentatively over the side.

 Interlude - Imagine Clever Title Here

    Behind him, the ominous snap of brittle twigs trampled underfoot grew louder. The beast¡¯s gait had picked up, transitioning from a slow lumber to a trot. The low lying brush rustled as whatever was following him plunged brazenly through the undergrowth in pursuit. With his heart drumming against his ribcage like a frantic bat fluttering from its cave, Faris quickened his pace.

    Tried to, anyway. His efforts resulted in him missing his next step and tumbling head over heels over a fallen log and down the subsequent hillside just behind. Faris¡¯s battered body rolled to a stop amongst a bed of ferns at the base of the lush knoll. He tried to stand and screamed instead as pain rocketed up his ankle. ¡°Muck!¡±

    A gruff growl sounded above him.

    No, no, no! A paralyzing chill blossomed within his chest, threatening to cut off his airway. With ice coursing through his veins, Faris forced his aching body back onto his feet. Not like this. He got to die in a fabulous house surrounded by money! Not by a bear. Gods, he hated bears. Why was it always bears?

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Figures. Here he was on the hunt for his idiot-witch best friend, whom he desperately needed in order to save his family and his village, and a damn bear had to go and muck it all up! It was hard enough with half the United Territories falling into open rebellion and his own ugly mug plastered on every wanted poster from Adderwood to Castle Bay, but noooooo. This misadventure couldn¡¯t possibly have been complete without something trying to eat him!

    Croak! A raven descended from the upper boughs of a paper birch to a lower perch, flapping its dark wings as it uttered unintelligible noises at him.

    ¡°For the last time, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re saying,¡± Faris hissed under his breath. He really should have learned how to distinguish the ravens from one another, because he honestly had no idea which member of Rasp¡¯s family he was currently yelling at.

    Croak.

    ¡°Yes, a bear. I¡¯m aware, thank you.¡±

    The crunch of approaching footsteps reminded Faris that he was supposed to be running for his life. Gritting his teeth, he limped along, certain he could hear the huffing breath of the beast grow louder as it slowly closed the gap between them.

 123 - Thats Cannibalism [Book Three]

    ¡°Look, I like charred snake as much as the next person. Nothing hits the spot better when you¡¯re stumbling home after a night at the tavern.¡± Rasp tore another chunk of piping hot meat from the skewer with his front teeth, feeling the warm juices dribble down his chin. He wiped the grease from his scratchy beard with the back of his sleeve as he wandered between the busy vendor stalls, sweeping his cane across the cobblestone street ahead of him.

    A flood of blurry citizens flowed around him as if he was a turtle amongst a stampede of rabbits. As most passersby avoided acknowledging him, Rasp felt inclined to return the favor. He carried on, still chewing, ¡°All I¡¯m saying is that the local kebab business could do with some variety. Remember that muskrat we had a couple months back? Practically orgasmic.¡±

    Croak.

    ¡°What do you mean you preferred the chicken?¡± He lifted the half eaten skewer higher, allowing the raven perched on his shoulder to tear a morsel free with a violent shake of its head. ¡°You¡¯re a bird. Isn¡¯t that like, I don¡¯t know, cannibalism or something?¡±

    Unable to speak clearly around the beak full of meat he was scarfing down, Father gargled his reply instead.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not a chicken! It¡¯s just weird, is all.¡±

    Croak!

    ¡°For the last time, I did not eat that man¡¯s foot. I bit down a little too hard and a piece got in my mouth. I panicked and swallowed. Me accidentally ingesting the tip of someone¡¯s pinky toe is not the same as you going out of your way to eat another bird because you enjoy the flavor.¡±

    Although the mass of festival-goers shuffling around him constituted little more than hazy shadows, Rasp was certain he saw a number of heads turn in his direction. In all fairness, the blind vagrant sharing a skewer of crackled pork belly with the raven perched on his shoulder was probably reason enough to stare. Even without proper eyesight, he knew he looked a mess. His silver hair had grown out and now hung around his ears in a dirty, tangled mess. He had several month¡¯s worth of a patchy beard on his chin and the layer of filth was probably the only thing keeping his traveling clothes from falling apart at the seams.

    Father offered a compelling rebuttal to the bird-eat-bird dilemma, forcing Rasp to sigh in agreement. ¡°Chicken is more tender, I¡¯ll give you that. Don¡¯t know what it has to do with fava beans and wine though.¡±

    Croak.

    ¡°Obviously I don¡¯t know the difference between Chianti and Amarone! I keep telling you, if we¡¯re going to have these conversations, you¡¯ve got to keep it on my level.¡±

    Around them, the late evening air was crisp and laden with the fragrance of bloomed chili spices, roasted meats, and enough cut onions to make his eyes weep. The dark sky was held at bay by countless twinkling yellow lanterns strung between the food stalls that lined either side of the bustling street. The Hanover city market was alive with activity as vendors cried out their wares to the passing patrons. The swaths of festival goers swarmed around Rasp, conscious not to touch him. As much as he would like to pretend this was out of conscientiousness for his cane, he suspected the odor from his unwashed skin was probably equally as responsible for their wide berth.

    Under Father¡¯s semi-helpful direction, Rasp was able to navigate the throng of blurry shapes until the street widened into a piazza of some sort. A structure rose up out of the cobblestones at the center of the city square. Rasp struck out towards it, certain he now knew what this curious landmark was. As he drew nearer, the soothing trickle of babbling water reached his ears, confirming that this was another one of the realm¡¯s curious creations known as a fountain.

    The more of the realm Rasp explored, the less of it he understood. Fountains, for example, had no function other than something to be enjoyed. Apparently you weren¡¯t supposed to drink or bathe in them¨Ca fact Rasp had learned the hard way. Lucky for him, Whisper had managed to talk the local authorities into releasing him with a warning after explaining that Rasp had been kicked in the head by several horses as a child.

    He rested his cane against the lip of the fountain and sat on the damp stone. Mist from the water feature pitter pattered against his shoulders each time the evening breeze changed direction. Ignoring the chill, Rasp tugged a steaming chunk of pork from the skewer and tossed it into the air above him. Father leapt from his shoulder in a flurry of dark feathers and claws to retrieve it.

    With his traveling companion temporarily distracted, Rasp scarfed down the rest of the food as quickly as he could. The last charred morsel was being shoved into the side of his cheek when Father landed onto the stone lip beside him with an undignified screech.

    ¡°Wha¡¯?¡± Rasp managed around the mouthful. ¡°I¡¯m bigger than you. I get more.¡±

    He regretted his gluttony almost immediately. The coarse salt crust was so thick it made his tongue burn. Attempting to chew the pork into a more manageable size, Rasp instinctively reached for the waterskin hanging from his hip when he remembered he wasn¡¯t wearing it. The waterskin was back with the rest of his meager belongings, stashed under a bush¨Ccoincidently, the same place he was supposed to be.

    Waiting for the other members of his party to return from their errands was boring though. And with the enticing sounds and smells of the Hanover Autumn Festival calling to him from within the city walls, Rasp had no choice but to abandon his post and wander aimlessly inside. For strictly educational purposes of course. After all, how could he expect to learn to blend in as an ordinary citizen of the realm if he spent all his time hiding in the bushes? That sounded more akin to a pervert and he didn¡¯t wish to be mistaken for one of those. Again.

    A passerby drew closer in Rasp¡¯s limited field of vision. His heart rate spiked, fearing they were going to strike up a conversation. His fear was for naught, he realized, when something struck the cobblestone between his feet with a metallic clink.

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    Rasp watched the mysterious shadow as they shuffled back into the indiscernible tide of moving bodies. Forcing down the rest of his food with a difficult swallow, he asked, ¡°Did they just throw something at me?¡±

    And Whisper said he could never pass for an ordinary citizen, ha! These people weren¡¯t so different from him after all. They, too, threw random objects at strangers. The thrower could stand to work on their aim though. It hadn¡¯t even gotten close to hitting him. Every experienced antagonist knew you either aimed for the head or the nuts. It was the basic fundamentals of being an asshole.

    Croak.

    ¡°He threw money at us?¡± Rasp tilted his head to the side curiously. He saw father¡¯s blurry shape start to move for the prize and leapt into action, shooing the raven back as he scrambled to be the first to claim it. ¡°Get your dirty talons out of here! You don¡¯t even use money.¡±

    Croak! Croak! Croak!

    ¡°I don¡¯t care how shiny it is. He threw it at me, therefore it¡¯s mine!¡± His grease covered fingers were just grasping the coin when Father¡¯s body struck him in the back of the head. With an awkward squawk, Rasp toppled over onto the cobbled stone. He twisted and turned, flailing his arms and legs in order to keep the persistent raven at bay.

    Father¡¯s talons skittered against the cobbled road as he hopped just outside of Rasp¡¯s range, croaking up a storm.

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m acting like a child! I am a child. Your child, specifically! What¡¯s that say about your stellar parenting, huh?¡±

    They continued in this manner for several moments more before Father gave up. It was a good thing too, because Rasp was now completely winded and in severe need of something to drink. With a groan, he rested his head against the rough stone and stared up at the lantern obstructed sky as he considered all of the poor decisions that had led him to this new personal low.

    Traveling the land with his mentor, Whisper, wasn¡¯t all bad. In fact, it came with some very unique upsides. In addition to learning how to actually use his powers, Rasp was also getting to see life outside of the Iron Ridge. Well, not actually seeing it. Experiencing it was probably a more accurate description. But he got to taste it, and smell it, hear all of its terrible sounds and, sometimes, amidst the ever present chaos of running from one territory to the next, scouring the realm for some ancient artifact he didn¡¯t care about, he got to kick a few asses too.

    It almost made it all worthwhile¨Cis what he told himself every morning as he dragged his protesting carcass out of whatever hidey-hole they¡¯d bunkered down in for the night. Some days, the lies were all that kept him going. Tall tales such as: one day this will all be over; your enemies can¡¯t possibly come after you for the rest of your life; maybe you¡¯ll get to see Faris again.

    ¡°Is there a problem here?¡± Still staring pointlessly upwards, the blurry outline of a person loomed over the top of him.

    Rasp couldn¡¯t make out anything distinct about their features, but from the authoritative tone, he assumed they were wearing a uniform¨Cthe kind that usually came equipped with a little shiny badge pinned to their breast pocket, a baton hanging from their hip, and a false sense of superiority. Best to play it safe then. ¡°A horrid creature attacked me,¡± Rasp said. ¡°I barely escaped with my life!¡±

    There was a notable pause as the looming shape appeared to twist his head this way and that, searching the surrounding area for the creature in question. ¡°All I see is a bird.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well in there lies the problem, good sir. For I cannot see anything. I had no way of knowing whether the foul beast was a bird or a small, feathery dragon.¡±

    The officer¡¯s voice changed from mildly concerned to ¡®it¡¯s time to move along, sir¡¯. ¡°We received several noise complaints¨C¡±

    ¡°Yes, it seems it was a very noisy bird,¡± Rasp agreed.

    ¡°You were referring to it as Father?¡±

    Croak!

    ¡°Hey, you stay out of this! No one asked you,¡± Rasp snapped before realizing this probably wasn¡¯t making his case. ¡°I call anyone who attacks me father. Ingrained childhood trauma and whatnot. It¡¯s a bit of a reflex.¡±

    Rasp pushed himself into a sitting position and scanned the area around him in the event things took a turn for the chaotic. He could just barely make out his cane resting against the brim of the stone fountain several paces away. If he moved quick enough, he could probably grab it before the officer grabbed him. Whether or not he¡¯d be able to get any further was a question he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted the answer to.

    ¡°I see. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight, sir?¡± The officer probably already had a convenient place in mind. The kind of room that came devoid of all furniture with white, padded walls and a padlocked door.

    ¡°I do. In fact, it¡¯s probably time I get headed in that direction now.¡± Rasp rolled swiftly to his feet and was moving back towards the fountain when the officer¡¯s hand clamped firmly over his shoulder, yanking him to an abrupt halt.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to make any assumptions about your circumstances, but if you would allow me to help, I think I might be able to find you some place with a nice bed, maybe a hot meal, a bath¡­¡±

    Rasp¡¯s brain automatically filled in the blanks. Some fashionable wrist bracelets, a nice shiny chain, maybe a lobotomy or two.

    Whether or not the officer was finished speaking didn¡¯t matter. Ducking low, Rasp slipped the man¡¯s grip and whipped around, moving steadily backwards until he bumped into the fountain. ¡°Oh no, no, no. That won¡¯t be necessary.¡±

    Croak.

    ¡°More than one?¡± Rasp¡¯s eyes darted back and forth across the muddled city square, realizing he could barely make out the faint outlines of three other officers closing in around him. ¡°Fuck! Why didn¡¯t you say something before?¡±

    Father¡¯s reply was idiotic as expected.

    ¡°Because I wouldn¡¯t give you the damn money, really? Fine, take it! I¡¯m not going to need it wherever I¡¯m going, am I?¡± Rasp hurled the offending coin in the direction of the officer whose shadowy figure was edging noticeably closer.

    His attacker dodged, narrowly avoiding a collision with the squawking ball of feathers and fury that chased recklessly after the coin. ¡°Easy, old man.¡±

    ¡°Old man?¡± Rasp felt the drum of his heartbeat quicken as heat flushed across his face.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not make a scene here. Come quietly and we can get all of this sorted out for you.¡±

    Rasp was still caught up on the ¡®old man¡¯ part. He thought it had been bad when everyone used to call him ¡®boy¡¯ all the time, but this was so, so much worse. Just because his hair was silver didn¡¯t make him old. It was times like this, Rasp found, that the best way to prove he wasn¡¯t some old geezer was to act as immaturely as possible. Granted, the argument could be made that this was his solution for everything, but there wasn¡¯t any sense in fixing what had been broken for too long already.

    ¡°Good sir,¡± Rasp said as the familiar warmth of magic lit a fire within his weary bones, ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I refuse to do anything quietly!¡±

 124 - Father-Son Bonding

    Alright, easy does it. Time to exercise some of that control Whisper is always hammering into your thick head.

    Magic flooded down Rasp¡¯s forearms and pooled in his hands until each greasy fingertip thrummed with energy. He held it, allowing its intensity to build until his core was near bursting, before releasing the pent magic with an idle flick of his fingers. On his command, a rush of water spilled over the side of the fountain behind him in a single, rolling wave.

    The cries around him were more surprised than terrified, which meant his strategy was working. The water wasn¡¯t meant as a means of destruction. It was simply the first step in a brilliant plan of escape that would hopefully harm as few people as possible, including himself.

    Rasp leapt backwards onto the fountain, ensuring his feet were not touching the tide that rolled soundlessly across the open city square. Already, he could see several of the advancing figures had overcome their shock and had remembered they were supposed to be catching him. According to Father, there were four pursuers in total. Rasp could hear their footsteps splashing through ankle-deep water towards him.

    Father landed on his shoulder in a dark flutter of wings, voicing his concerns regarding the validity of Rasp¡¯s plan.

    ¡°I know they¡¯re getting closer. Stop rushing me.¡±

    Blocking out the raven¡¯s unhelpful response, Rasp drew inwards once more. He pictured the energy burning within him and redirected it into his hands. Channeling his concentration, he tempered the raging fire, transforming it from hot to cold. He waited, allowing the magic to complete the change before casting it downwards with a wave of his hand. Below him, the cobblestone crackled and popped as a layer of frost spread across the surface of the water, rendering it to ice.

    So far so good. Twice now he¡¯d managed to tap into his powers without awakening the beast within. This was good. This was working.

    ¡°What in the name of chaos?¡± the closest officer cried.

    When Rasp opened his eyes again he saw the man¡¯s blurry form lurch to a halt, unable to move forward with his boots stuck within a sheet of ice. A quick visual sweep of the surrounding area confirmed that the shadowy outlines of the his cronies appeared to be having similar difficulties.

    It was a shame Whisper wasn¡¯t here to see his accomplishment. His mentor might have actually been proud of him for a change. Of course, in order to brag about it later, Rasp first had to ensure he actually got away.

    Ignoring the impulse to jump from the fountain and attempt a swift escape, Rasp eased his way onto the ice, checking to be sure he had his footing before skidding out across the slippery square. He was making slow but steady progress when he heard the ice shatter behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the lead officer had broken a foot free and was working on the other. Rasp attempted to pick up his speed but succeeded only losing his balance and falling over.

    Father took to the air above his head. Croak!

    ¡°My stick?¡± Crap. In a valiant effort to control his inner rage, Rasp had gotten so caught up in the getaway, he¡¯d mistakenly left his cane behind. ¡°That would have been helpful to know back at the fountain!¡±

    Father¡¯s explanation was as petty as could be expected.

    ¡°Because you didn¡¯t get your coin, really?¡± So much for his valiant effort. Rasp could feel his temper beginning to stir along with his rising panic. ¡°I will make it up to you, I swear. Now help me figure a way out of this!¡±

    A second shattering of ice warned that his pursuer now had both feet free. Amidst a slew of cursing, the officer¡¯s hazy shape started to move, shuffling rather comically in his direction. Rasp pulled to his knees and scrambled away on all fours, wincing as his bare skin tried to fuse with the passing ice. He continued despite the pain, focused on making sense of whatever nonsense Father was croaking up a storm about.

    ¡°Just like ice skating?¡± he repeated. It was official. The damn bird was out of his pea-sized mind. ¡°I never learned how to ice skate. You said it was for pansies!¡±

    Father continued to shout unhelpful advice at him from above.

    Despite his best efforts, he wasn¡¯t getting anywhere very quickly on all fours. Additionally, two more pursuers had broken free from the ice and were now in slow pursuit. Whispering a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening, Rasp rose shakily onto his feet, keeping his hands out in front of him in case he toppled over again. ¡°Alright! We¡¯ll do it your way. Tell me what to do.¡±

    The large raven landed onto the ice several paces ahead of him, squawking instructions as he hopped and skipped along the path he wished for Rasp to take.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to put my socks over my shoes. Jump to the next step!¡±

    Rasp listened to Father¡¯s instructions, feeling the icy grip of panic spread throughout his body. No time to think, just do. Filling his lungs with what was surely to be his last breath, Rasp bent forward and repositioned his center of gravity until it was over his feet. With one boot firmly planted, he pushed off with the other. To his absolute shock, he slid smoothly across the ice without falling. Excitement bubbled in his chest as he repeated Father¡¯s instructions a second time, both amazed and utterly delighted to find the results were the same as the first.

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    ¡°Dad, look, look! I¡¯m doing it!¡±

    Rasp heard the ice crunch behind him as one of his pissed off pursuers started to gain on him.

    Croak!

    ¡®Don¡¯t think, just do¡¯ rang through his head once more. Per Father¡¯s instructions, Rasp pushed off once more, this time pivoting with his stationary foot in order to change direction. The motion threw his body spinning sideways, barely escaping the dark shape that leapt at him from behind. Rasp bent his knees to regain his balance until he slid to a successful stop. This time, when a second hazy form slip-slided towards him, he was ready.

    Rasp pivoted out of their grasp with relative ease. Emboldened by his newfound skill, he pressed forward, alternating feet as he built speed. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the blurry shadows of his pursuers were so far in the distance they were now indistinguishable from the background. Rasp kept moving, certain at any moment, he would reach the edge of the ice flow and fall flat on his face, but the end never came. The ice stretched on even after he reached the towering buildings and slid into an adjoining side street.

    The fleeing, alas, was made more difficult by the sheer volume of people who refused to get out of his way. It was only after his third collision Rasp realized it was not intentional. From the frantic shouts and crunching of ice, a fair amount of the festival-goers were trapped in place. Under Father¡¯s watchful direction, Rasp dodged and weaved his way through the confused crowd.

    He was making decent progress when an uncomfortable warmth seeped from the soles of his shoes upwards. Glancing down, he saw a faint pulsing glow illuminating the ice beneath his feet. The unfamiliar magic shot upwards, shattering the surface layer with a resounding crack! A swirling mass of broken ice and stone lifted him in the air and whipped him sideways. Rasp slammed into a nearby vendor cart, snapping the stand from its wooden wheels along with what he imagined were several, if not all, of his ribs in the process.

    Waiting until the dirt and debris had finished falling from the sky over him, he lifted his head with a groan and tried to make sense of the twinkling specks of light dancing along the edge of his muddled vision. Through the shifting gloom, he saw the newest player advancing towards him.

    ¡°By the order of the Division of Divination, I hereby order you to surrender!¡±

    One of these idiots, great. As if fleeing from a squad of city police hadn¡¯t been bad enough, apparently his antics had drawn the attention of something far worse.

    ¡°Put your hands where¨C¡± the rest of the division member¡¯s words were cut off by a violent gust of wind that sent her careening back down the icy cobbled street like a dried leaf caught in a tornado.

    ¡°Fucking witches,¡± Rasp cursed, attempting to roll to his feet but succeeding in landing face-first against the slick stone pavers. ¡°I hate witches!¡±

    ¡°You are a witch,¡± an unfamiliar voice said from somewhere alongside him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± he said. ¡°Figures you were watching along the sidelines this whole time, being unhelpful as usual. Were you planning to step in at all or just watch me crash and burn?¡±

    ¡°I did step in.¡±

    ¡°A little on the late side, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°I would not have had to step in had you stayed with the bags as instructed.¡± A hand reached down and grasped his wrist. From the lack of concern in the stranger¡¯s voice, Rasp knew this wasn¡¯t a stranger at all, but one of his mentor¡¯s many mortal disguises. Traveling in their true form, after all, would have simply caused more problems¨Cprimarily the kind involving pitchfork wielding mobs.

    ¡°Now, if you¡¯re done making a spectacle of yourself, I suggest we make a quick exit. Where there is one member of the division, there are many.¡± Whisper did not pull Rasp to his feet. Their hand on his wrist was simply to remind him that if he didn¡¯t make the effort himself, the fae would overcompensate with their magic.

    ¡°You should be thankful it was as little of a spectacle as it was.¡° Rasp stood and hooked his arm through Whisper¡¯s, starting off at an awkward limp as he attempted to match their stride. ¡°Believe me, I could have made that way more spectacular.¡±

    Whisper pulled Rasp behind a random building and out the other end into a dark and narrow alleyway. Dark and stinking of garbage, the street was thankfully free of ice, making passage much faster. ¡°They¡¯ll have eyes on the main gate by now. We¡¯ll have to find another way through.¡±

    Rasp found himself wondering if this other way through would involve obliterating a portion of the city wall. Not that he was opposed to it, of course, but such methods did seem to be in direct conflict with their agreed ¡®try to be subtle, dammit¡¯ way of doing things.

    ¡°We are not blowing a hole in anything.¡±

    ¡°Stop reading my thoughts!¡±

    ¡°Stop thinking stupid thoughts and I won¡¯t have to read them to tell you they¡¯re stupid,¡± Whisper replied as the fae increased their pace from a fast shuffle to a clumsy run.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to think most mentors don¡¯t spend half their time calling their apprentices stupid.¡± Rasp tightened his grip on Whisper¡¯s arm as he struggled to keep pace. With the absence of the lanterns, he was unable to make out anything more than vague passing shadows.

    ¡°Correct. What does that say about you, little bird?¡±

    ¡°Stop turning this around on me! Did you see what I did at the fountain? Problem solving without overreacting. I dipped into my magic without stirring the darkness. You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Whisper grumbled as they veered to the side, tugging Rasp around a corner he hadn¡¯t seen coming. ¡°The performance was exemplary. Your reluctance to set anything on fire was particularly commendable. Well done.¡±

    Rasp was continually impressed by his mentor¡¯s ability to turn even the most benign of compliments into an insult. He opened his mouth, prepared to volley a barrage of venom-laced insults when a sudden hiss from Whisper cut him short.

    Rasp fell silent not so much out of a willingness to obey, but because he was already short of breath and shouting while running was only exacerbating the steady fire burning within his lungs. Over the rasping pant of his own breath, he heard the echo of fast footsteps starting to close in behind them.

 125 - A Heartfelt Reunion

    ¡°Get your fucking hands off me!¡± Her voice reverberated against the vaulted ceiling with such magnitude, the entire palace was now likely aware of the disturbance taking place in the grand entryway.

    Startled by her volume, the guard¡¯s crushing grip lessened on Daana¡¯s elbow just the slightest. She ripped her arm free and staggered several steps backwards. The worn tread of her boots slid on the slick gold and white marble tile as she put space between her and the palace guard, ensuring she had adequate room to dodge in the event he tried to grab her a second time. She supposed she could kick him between the legs as she had done to the uniformed officer who intercepted her on the steps, but that would only add to her growing troubles.

    The palace guard overcame his momentary shock and, with a firmly set jaw, moved towards her again. His right hand shot out to grab her, but Daana ducked out of his range at the last moment. ¡°I already told you,¡± he snarled. ¡°No one enters the palace without an appointment. Either you leave now, willingly, or you shall do so under arrest.¡±

    ¡°For the last damn time, I don¡¯t need an appointment because I live here! I am Daana Lazuli.¡±

    ¡°That joke gets less funny every time you tell it.¡±

    She caught a glimpse of her grimy reflection in one of the gold plated mirrors mounted to the wall. At the very least, the guard¡¯s reaction was understandable. Daana looked more like a street urchin than she did the proud member of a noble house. She wasn¡¯t even going to address the fact that if it weren¡¯t for the dress, it would have been next to impossible to tell she was a lady.

    ¡°Alright, I admit this looks bad,¡± she said, steadily backing away, keeping an ever watchful eye on the second palace guard who was slinking up along the hallway from behind. The grand entryway staircase was only ten yards to her left. With a little skill and a heapful of luck, there was a chance she could reach it before either of them nabbed her. ¡°I only jumped the fence because the sentries at the gate wouldn¡¯t let me in. And yes, I might have kicked the guard that intercepted me on the steps¡­several times, but he was being unnecessarily rough. If you would just fetch my uncle, Geralt Lazuli, Speaker of the People, he could clear up this little misunderstanding right away.¡±

    The guard from behind rushed forward without warning, the heels of their boots clacking thunderously against the tile. Daana attempted to dodge the approaching guard and subsequently flubbed the footing. While her coordination was subpar, her timing was not. She managed to throw her momentum into a roll and sprang into a low crouch, saving her face from an unpleasant encounter with the floor.

    With a horrendous squeak, she slid across the freshly waxed marble until she came to a stop several feet from the bottom of the staircase. The fact that she was facing the wrong way did little to dampen her astonishment. Damn, she thought, whipping around in order to face the oncoming enemy. I bet that looked impressive. Now why couldn¡¯t I have done that when one of the others was watching?

    Not the guards, obviously. The pair had witnessed her unexpected feat of agility and were steadily advancing with more caution than before. They even had short swords drawn. She didn¡¯t know whether to feel flattered or insulted by that.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± A harsh voice rang out from above.

    Even after months away, Daana still flinched at the familiar tone. The guards appeared to be undergoing a similar reaction as the pair halted in their tracks, allowing Daana a brief second to glance over her shoulder. An elf with light brown skin and tightly braided hair stood at the top step. The hem of his long, black robes pooled at his feet. His eyes were ice gray, like frost-coated silver.

    The elf¡¯s gaze settled on Daana and his lower lip fell open with a slight tremble. ¡°Daana?¡±

    She thought she¡¯d been prepared for this moment, but dread fluttered like an injured butterfly in the pit of her stomach regardless. On cue, a tight smile pulled mechanically across her lips. Daana threw out her hands to welcome him, nearly choking on the word as it squeaked free from her dry throat. ¡°Uncle!¡±

    An amalgamation of various emotions flickered across his sharp features, none of which Daana could identify with any certainty. Her unannounced arrival must have come as a surprise even to him because, for the first time in her life, uncle appeared to be at a loss for words.

    ¡°How?¡± he managed, finally.

    She swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to open her mouth and let it all come pouring out in a desperate bid to win his approval. That was Old Daana¡¯s method. The months away had changed her. In order to survive, she¡¯d learned to emulate those capable of navigating the harsh realities of life. Do as Oralia does, she reminded herself. Keep everything in. Let nothing out.

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    ¡°I will explain everything, I assure you.¡± Daana tilted her head at the soldiers who still had their weapons drawn. Thankfully uncle¡¯s presence appeared to be keeping them at bay for the moment. ¡°Do you think you could do something about my present situation first, though? This is, after all, a heartfelt reunion and not an interrogation. I¡¯ll pretend not to be offended that your muscle didn¡¯t recognize me.¡±

    ¡°I will take it from here, thank you.¡± Uncle Geralt dismissed the palace guards with a wave of his hand as he skirted down the stairs, his dark robe billowing majestically in his wake. Somehow uncle managed to make even a rushed decent look regal. He reached the bottom of the staircase and pulled her into his arms.

    Her heartbeat doubled as she stood frozen, unsure of whether to pull away or give in. Uncle had never been the affectionate type. In fact, she couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d hugged her. Was this proof that she¡¯d misjudged the situation? That maybe things between them weren¡¯t as horrible as she¡¯d been led to believe?

    The embrace was as awkward as it was short lived. Geralt pulled swiftly away, the edges of his sharp nostrils wrinkling in disgust. ¡°Why do you smell like a dung heap? Dear girl, in all of this time away, tell me you haven¡¯t forgotten how to bathe.¡±

    Ah, there it was. Cruel reality right on schedule.

    ¡°This may come as a surprise, but there weren¡¯t many opportunities to freshen up whilst trekking through lawless territory on my own, uncle,¡± she replied in an overly chipper tone. The filth was an added layer of protection as well. Overeager soldiers and suspicious townsfolk would have noticed the highborn elf passing through, but no one batted an eye at another bedraggled traveler. With war waging across the territories, displaced refugees had been turning up in the capital in record numbers. No one had noticed the stowaway that slipped through the gates amongst them.

    ¡°Yes, of course.¡± Unless he was weaponizing the impact of uninterrupted eye contact to make a point, Uncle Geralt¡¯s gaze never lingered in the same place for long. His stare lifted from Daana as he spoke, sweeping the area around them. ¡°I want to hear all about it. But perhaps somewhere private. Come.¡±

    He led her into the stateroom, pausing at the doorway to speak with a passing servant. Daana drifted into the room ahead of him. The blue and gold stateroom stretched around her in a glimmering display of bloated opulence. Three of the four pastel blue walls sported spiraling columns of gold and ivory. The spaces between the columns were lined with tufted chairs and lounges, above which hung giant, tastefully boring paintings all depicting variations of the same floral garden. The fourth wall proudly displayed a gilded hearth nearly the size of a small storehouse, fashioned to look like the mouth of a snarling dragon. The polished marble flooring was obscured from sight by the plush blue rug that sank nearly half an inch under her weight. Overhead, three crystal chandeliers showered the stateroom in pale, flickering light.

    Amongst the lavish furnishings the only detail out of place, regretfully, appeared to be her.

    Daana shifted nervously, clasping her hands in front of her in order to avoid adjusting her poorly fitted dress for the umpteenth time. The garment had been nabbed from an unattended clothes line several town¡¯s over. Despite her best efforts to adjust the fit to conform to her body, the waist still cut uncomfortably deep into her stomach. No matter how she tried, her gaze kept wandering back to the pedestals that lined either side of the hearth with various shiny treasures.

    The doors closed behind her softly, disrupting Daana¡¯s internal debate over which valuable would fetch the best price on the street.

    ¡°I have food on its way.¡± Geralt imparted one of his tight-lipped smiles. The kind that never seemed to reach his eyes. ¡°In the meantime, I want to know everything. Starting with how it is you got here?¡±

    She knew it wasn¡¯t the answer he sought, but gave it anyway. ¡°Walked mostly.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but how? According to my best sources, your last known whereabouts were in Adderwood. You were being kept as a hostage by the enemy. I have the ransom notes to prove it. How did you manage to escape and make your way all the way here without anyone knowing?¡±

    While uncle had used the word ¡®anyone¡¯, he actually meant ¡®me¡¯. All her life, he had insisted that information was the greatest power and wielded it with far more accuracy than any weapon. The fact that Daana had managed to break out on her own without his notice was probably eating away at him from the inside. ¡°Oh, so you did receive the ransom notes.¡± Daana couldn¡¯t deny the sting of disappointment that pulled tight at her throat. It was one thing to be ignorant of your niece being held captive. But to know and purposely do nothing? Rat bastard. ¡°Didn¡¯t ever get around to paying them, I guess. You did read the part where my captors threatened to start cutting off my fingers, right?¡±

    His mouth parted, horrified, but Daana didn¡¯t give him the opportunity to explain himself. She laughed it off with a playful shove instead, sending him stumbling several steps backwards. The ever-poised Geralt Lazuli managed to maintain both his composure and balance.

    A pity. Perhaps she¡¯d give it another try near the top of the stairs.

    ¡°I¡¯m kidding, uncle! Although I suppose it¡¯s good I took care of things when I got the chance.¡± She lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers at him. ¡°Else I might be short a few of these.¡±

    ¡°Daana¡­¡± His frosted gray eyes were focused on her arm and not her words. Uncle Geralt reached out and grasped her wrist, gently pushing back her sleeve in order to get a better view of the black, branching veins that snaked up the inside of her forearm. ¡°What happened?¡±

    Oh yeah. That.

    Daana had run this same conversation through her head so many times, she was certain that she¡¯d covered all her bases. And yet, somehow the explanation for the dark magic writhing beneath her skin had slipped her mind completely. If she was being honest with herself, it was because it scared her to think about.

    Honesty, however, was the last thing on her mind and Daana offered Uncle Geralt a nervous smile instead. ¡°Did you say there was food coming? Because I don¡¯t know about you, but I could really go for a strong cup of tea about now.¡±

    And a few shots of gin for added measure. Or a bottle. Maybe a case.

 126 - Threatening Silence

    Uncle Geralt traced the outline of the dark veins on Daana¡¯s wrist with his index finger. He stopped when he reached the edge of her tattered sleeve, tapping his fingertip against the underside of her arm as his eyes narrowed in concentrated thought. She searched his expression for clues, but found none. The skin on her face was suddenly unbearably hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead as her heartbeat rapidly drummed out the sound of her own racing thoughts.

    How was she supposed to explain the markings on her arm? ¡®Oh, you know how it is with evil, dark entities, Uncle. One moment you¡¯re trapping it within a powerstone and, in the next, you¡¯re accidently absorbing some of its power. Also, I may have infected two other people while doing so. Whoopsie!¡¯

    ¡°Daana?¡±

    Uncle¡¯s voice startled her from an inward spiral. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she stared back at him, refusing to say anymore. It was another trick she¡¯d learned from Uncle Geralt¡¯s nemesis. Oralia often insisted that silence could be more powerful than words. Keeping silent, however, had never been Daana¡¯s strong suit.

    ¡°Daana?¡± he repeated.

    Hold the silence, Daana. You can do it.

    ¡°Child, you haven¡¯t blinked in ages.¡±

    Hold it. Hold it. Hold it!

    Uncle Geralt¡¯s gaze lifted from her arm to her face, bearing down on her with the full weight of his attention. Something about his expression changed. Daana didn¡¯t know how exactly, only that it was suddenly taking every ounce of her nerve not to squirm out from under his scrutinizing stare.

    Finally, having reached some unspoken conclusion, he imparted his thoughts with slow, methodical care. ¡°This is not like any sort of infliction I have ever seen before. By its appearance, I would hazard that it was not exacted on you by a mortal either.¡±

    Daana¡¯s brow furrowed. Of course the first thing out of his mouth was about the damn magic! Not ¡®Daana, my dear, I was so worried. I missed you terribly. Your absence made me realize all the ways in which I mistreated you, and I would like the chance to do better¡¯.

    With her stream of consciousness running rampant through her thoughts, Uncle Geralt¡¯s next question caught her by surprise. ¡°Is it causing you harm?¡±

    For the briefest of moments, something flickered in her chest. Was it possible? Did he actually care? She had spent the past few months so utterly furious at him that she hadn¡¯t considered the possibility that uncle might have actually been worried. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Her voice was suddenly small. ¡°I was hoping to find that out myself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard mixed reports detailing the battle on Mount Hook. Without any eye witnesses on our end, it has been difficult separating fact from fiction.¡± This time, when his somber gaze lifted, it remained fixed on her, watching her reaction for tells. ¡°Was this the ghost¡¯s doing?¡±

    And just like that, the flicker of hope was snuffed out. Daana jerked her arm free of his grasp, working her loose sleeve back over the markings. ¡°The ghost, really? That¡¯s what you think to ask me? Not, Daana, how are you? Are you alright? Can I get anything for you? For fuck¡¯s sake, next you¡¯ll be asking me if I captured the damn thing.¡±

    His dark eyebrows rose as if to say ¡®did you?¡¯

    ¡°It still counts if you say it with your face!¡±

    Uncle Geralt picked his words carefully. ¡°I am getting the sense that you are upset with me. If it is about the ransom, please know that I have been attempting to negotiate your release for months now. Regretfully, communications from your captors have been unreliable at best.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t think of an adequate reply that didn¡¯t rely heavily on the use of profane language. Thus, Daana opted for an unimpressed, ¡°Mhm.¡±

    His gaze swept to the nearest lounge and looked to be debating whether he wanted to put a towel down before inviting her to sit. Fortunately, he had the sense not to do so. ¡°Let us sit and discuss this civilly. As you can imagine, I have so many questions.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think so. You don¡¯t get answers. Not before I get some first.¡± She folded her arms over her chest and broadened her defiant stance. ¡°I learned some very interesting rumors during my time away. You¡¯re not getting another word out of me about the Palace Ghost, or Oralia, or the rebellion, until you give me the truth.¡±

    ¡°Oralia?¡± Uncle Geralt looked as though he had bitten into an exceptionally sour lemon. ¡°Oralia Dawnsight? Traitor to the realm, responsible for sparking widespread civil disobedience, and turning at least two out of the outer territories into all out rebellion against the current governing body¨Cthat Oralia? For the gods¡¯ sakes, child, she held you prisoner against your will! You, above all else, should know better than to believe a single word out of that traitor¡¯s mouth.¡±

    ¡°Actually, it was Ellisar that told me.¡± Daana tapped her foot, watching his reaction as carefully as he had watched hers. ¡°I wonder if she¡¯s returned to calling herself Captain Pride by now. That¡¯s a name you should recognize, isn¡¯t it dear uncle? She¡¯s not a chatty one, but she had an awful lot to say about you.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    He stared at her like a predator determining whether to meet the opposition¡¯s challenge or turn tail and run.

    ¡°No? Well what about Larkspur Denari? Is there anything you¡¯d like to tell me about her?¡±

    Uncle Geralt maintained his silence, allowing the quiet to grow hostile as his unnerving stare never lifted from her.

    ¡°Uncle, uncle, uncle,¡± Daana tsked at his efforts. She stepped closer, pushing her face closer to his in hopes that doing so would cause his fixed expression to crack. His nostrils twitched at the smell, but to his credit, his resolve remained otherwise undeterred. ¡°The threatening silence, really? You know Oralia practically invented that, right? Frankly, she¡¯s a lot better at it, too. Let¡¯s leave the hostility to the experts, shall we?¡±

    His voice was low, spoken through clenched teeth. ¡°What do you want from me?¡±

    ¡°The truth.¡±

    ¡°The truth? The truth is Larkspur Denari was a magical extremist. She didn¡¯t care about freeing her fellow witches anymore than she cared about you, Daana.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s true then? She was my mother?¡± She didn¡¯t wait for his answer. Fighting the sudden onslaught of angry tears, Daana threw her arms out from her sides. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s something you should have told me? I deserved to know!¡±

    ¡°It did not matter.¡±

    ¡°Of course it mattered!¡± Why had she let herself be talked into this again? She had known he wouldn¡¯t break. Even now, after being confronted with the truth, uncle still wasn¡¯t being forthright. For years, he¡¯d used her. And when she didn¡¯t demonstrate any of the natural talent of her mother, he shaped her into a pawn instead. She¡¯d been arranged over his chess board her entire life, completely unaware or unwilling to see it. But she wasn¡¯t blind to it, not anymore. And she¡¯d be damned if she let the old snake think his tactics still worked on her.

    Uncle Geralt¡¯s downturned mouth doubled its efforts. ¡°She didn¡¯t want you, Daana. What good would it have done to grow up knowing that? Forgive me for trying to spare you this pain. I thought it was better to keep you in the dark than to know your mother abandoned you.¡±

    ¡°Putting me on a boat does not count as abandoning me,¡± Daana replied stiffly. She met his frown with a raise of her eyebrow. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. I know about that part too. And how you paid off the goblin that found me so you could claim me as your own.¡±

    ¡°What was I supposed to do? You arrived at the palace doorstep as an orphan. No charity would have taken you in, not with your familial history. I forged the papers and your background, yes. But what of it? Did I not give you everything your actual mother couldn¡¯t? A roof over your head, the finest schooling, and the greatest asset of all, a purpose. And now, after everything I have done for you, you¡¯re willing to throw it all away on the word of a deranged criminal claiming to be some long dead revolutionist?¡±

    Daana¡¯s scowl must have been one for the record books because it caused uncle to falter. Finally, after an uncomfortable silence settled between them, he drew himself to his full height and allowed the weight of his words to settle. ¡°What is your end goal here, Daana? Was it enough to hear me admit my deceptions out loud? I would like to think our relationship can recover from this, but that would require compromise on both our ends.¡±

    ¡°I already told you what I want! Stop trying to rearrange me on your stupid chess board and tell me about Larkspur Denari.¡±

    ¡°The answers you seek will not fulfill you.¡±

    Daana gritted her teeth together. ¡°Tell me about my mother.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± He stepped around her, hailing to someone lingering on the other side of the ajar door. ¡°Guards, secure her.¡±

    On his command, a trio of hired muscle stormed into the stateroom. They were dressed in plainclothes and didn¡¯t appear to wear any sort of emblem or insignia to identify their employer. Meaning of course that they worked for her uncle exclusively. The only similarity shared between the three goons stalking swiftly towards her was the abundance of weapons hanging from their belts. Each one openly carried a short sword and a dagger.

    As her own knife had been stripped by the palace guard who intercepted her on the front steps, Daana had no realistic means of defense. She may have learned how to throw a decent right hook and kick below the belt during her time spent away, but she was still no match for three professionals. Two of the unmarked guardsmen took up positions on either side of her as the third secured her hands behind her back with a set of heavy iron manacles.

    Daana winced as the metal snapped over her wrists with a heavy clink! ¡°You¡¯re putting me under arrest? Really?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid my hand has been forced.¡±

    ¡°Is that just how lowly you think of me, uncle? In case you have forgotten, I grew up in this palace. I watched you play this game with the common folk.¡± Daana did her best to look unbothered by the fact that the manacles were entirely too tight. ¡°You place me in chains, have your guards haul me out the door, just as I¡¯m being dragged away, I have a sudden change of heart and agree to tell you everything I know in exchange for my freedom. Am I remembering that correctly?¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± Uncle Geralt said. ¡°Unfortunately, such information will only serve to make this next step awkward between us.¡±

    Daana gazed around the room, avoiding direct eye contact lest he see the fear hidden behind her mask of indifference. Amidst the various replies rampaging behind her eyes, she chose the one that would be sure to antagonize him the most. ¡°To be honest I¡¯m not even convinced you even have a dungeon at this point.¡±

    ¡°Several, actually.¡± He started towards the double doors, with his hands clasped behind his back as his long robe swayed behind him. ¡°Escort her to the carriage, gentleman.¡±

    She dug her heels into the plush carpet as the guards on either side shepherded her towards the double doorway. Uncle Geralt stood waiting patiently out in the hallway, watching with an expression of callous indifference. No, it was worse than that. The fucker looked bored! Ugh, she couldn¡¯t wait to wipe that stupid look from his face the moment she got her hands free.

    Considering that wasn¡¯t a possibility at the moment, she had to settle for glaring daggers at him instead. She was so overcome with fury, she nearly forgot to say her line. ¡°This isn¡¯t funny! Tell your men to unhand me this instant!¡±

    He strode casually alongside as the guards whisked her out of the stateroom and down a separate hallway. The corridor was dark and narrow, leading towards the servant¡¯s entrance. ¡°You asked to learn about your mother, Daana. I am merely sending you to the one person who knew her well. You should be thanking me, honestly.¡±

 127 - The Full Dungeon Experience

    It was times like this that Daana regretted swearing off magic for good. Yes, there had been legitimate reasons for doing so. Reasons such as her diminishing sense of control, the unintended, often disastrous consequences that immediately followed, and, most importantly, that the use of magic seemed to be directly correlated with the spreading darkness within her veins. But so what? If anything, her present situation called for drastic measures. Unfortunately, without her armlets and with no immediate way to awaken the magic burrowed inside her, Daana was forced to rely on more practical means in order to escape.

    Dragging her feet into the carpet, however, proved both ineffective and impractical. No matter how she struggled, Daana was unable to slow their swift progress. The third henchman reached the exit first and held the door for them. A stark channel of sunlight poured in from outside, temporarily obstructing her vision. The same could not be said for her escorts, who carried on without missing a beat.

    Uncle Geralt stopped at the doorway and waved the procession down a series of worn stone steps. There was an unmarked carriage awaiting them in the empty courtyard below, its door already swung open in preparation for a swift departure. ¡°Oh, and do be sure to remember the blindfold,¡± Uncle called after them. ¡°It would be a shame to rob my dear niece of the full dungeon experience.¡±

    Well shit. He wasn¡¯t playing around anymore, was he? She¡¯d meant to push him over the edge, of course. She simply hadn¡¯t expected it to be this easy. After all, Uncle Geralt had always been a fickle fiddle to play. After so many years of being on top of his game, had he finally lost his touch? A troubling thought settled over Daana¡¯s thoughts. What if he hadn¡¯t? What if he¡¯d somehow anticipated her move and was now stringing her along as a means to fuck with her in return?

    Don¡¯t let him get into your head!

    Right. Stick to the plan. Daana willed her limbs to go limp, causing the guards to nearly drop her, as she revisited her mental checklist. Break into the capital, check. Confront uncle and piss him off, check and check. Make it look convincing. Ah, yes, that¡¯s where she was. By all accounts, she was nailing it so far. It probably helped that the fear she was supposed to be feigning was one hundred percent authentic. All that was missing now was a desperate escape attempt to really drive it all home.

    Springing back to her feet, Daana kicked the guard to her left in the back of the knee. He crumpled to the ground with a surprised yelp. Wrenching free of her other escort, Daana spun around to find the third henchman hurtling towards her. She dodged him, inadvertently tripping over the fallen body of the first, and struck the cobblestones, unable to use her hands to cushion her fall.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± she groaned, rolling stiffly onto her side. While she had known the escape would fail, she hadn¡¯t meant for it to fail so spectacularly. Or quickly, for that matter. For the gods¡¯ sakes, she¡¯d managed to roll closer to the damn carriage!

    A slow clap coming from the top of the steps alerted her that her uncle was still present and, regretfully, had borne witness to her blundered escape. ¡°Well done, Daana. You always were full of surprises. Now be a dear and move this along quickly. I have a nation to run.¡±

    The obligatory ¡®fuck you¡¯ died on Daana¡¯s tongue as a dark hood was pulled over her head. She continued to fight every step of the way until one very exasperated henchman abandoned all sense of propriety and swung her over his shoulder. Muttering under his breath, he clambered into the back of the awaiting carriage with her kicking for all she was worth. Alas, her efforts were for naught. He set her onto the wooden bench with an ungentle slam that knocked the remaining air from her lungs.

    The carriage frame rocked beneath her as the second guard climbed inside and took a seat across from them. The third jumped in next but was apparently prevented from sitting alongside the second.

    ¡°On the other side of the prisoner,¡± guard number two ordered.

    ¡°There¡¯s barely any room!¡± number three protested.

    ¡°She¡¯s already given half the palace force the slip. We¡¯re not taking any chances. One on either side of her.¡±

    ¡°...But the smell.¡±

    ¡°Oh please,¡± she muttered. ¡°I can still smell the whore on your breath with a bag over my head.¡±

    ¡°You, shut up. And you, sit.¡±

    With a reluctant groan, guard number three made room by shoving Daana further down the wooden bench seat until she was pressed firmly against the body of the first.

    Uncle¡¯s voice rang out, fainter than before thanks to the stupid hood. Evidently he had abandoned his post at the top of the stairs in order to see her off. How generous of him. It was a shame she couldn¡¯t reward his kindness with a nice headbutt to the nose. ¡°This pains me as much as it does you, Daana,¡± Uncle Geralt said. ¡°I do hope that you learn from this and come around on your own. Until that time, enjoy your stay. I assure you, you will be in the very best of hands.¡±

    Without further adieu, the door slammed shut and the carriage lurched forward, picking up speed as it barreled down the uneven cobblestone road. It had been ages since Daana had last ridden in a carriage. She hadn¡¯t remembered it being quite this uncomfortable. She ground her back molars as her back side slammed against the un-cushioned bench seat as the driver seemingly went out of his way to drive over every bump and pothole in the city.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Sandwiched between the two larger guards, there wasn¡¯t much room for her to navigate. It didn¡¯t stop her from trying, of course. Daana squirmed in her seat, attempting to work her wrists free of the heavy iron manacles keeping them firmly fastened behind her back. She succeeded only in rubbing the skin on her wrists raw against the unyielding metal¨Cthat and earning a firm elbow to the ribs from the guard on her left.

    ¡°Sit still,¡± he grunted.

    There was a time in her life that such rough handed treatment would have frightened her into an obedient stupor, but that was Old Daana. And Old Daana would not even recognize the version of her that now sat shackled on the bench, headed for a dungeon, all while running poorly thought-out revenge plots through her head. Using the toe of her boot, Daana searched the floor for guard number one¡¯s foot. Finding what she sought, she lifted her boot and brought her heel down upon it with as much force as she could muster.

    She was rewarded with a cry of pain that was almost immediately followed up by a second elbow to the ribs. This one was noticeably harder than the last.

    So much so, it caused Daana to double over, barely able to breathe as hot tears sprang from her eyes and trickled down her face. An unnerving laugh filled the cramped carriage. What was even more unnerving was the fact that it was coming from her. Oh dear. After months of being stretched thin, her mind had finally snapped.

    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡± Guard number three struck her across the back of the head. ¡°Sit still and shut up!¡±

    With each gasping laugh, the coarse fabric of the hood pressed further into her mouth, threatening to cut off her already dwindling air. Daana closed her eyes and focused on slowing the rampant drum of her heartbeat as a maniacal smile pulled across her mouth. ¡°What was that? A love tap?¡±

    ¡°Muzzle it or I¡¯ll give you another one.¡±

    As her ability to defend herself had steadily improved over the course of the past four months, so too had her aptitude for shit talk. Unfortunately, the latter was not always to her benefit. ¡°How about you unchain me and I show you what a real hit feels like?¡±

    Oh gods. That sounded a little too much Rali for Daana¡¯s comfort. Had she really fallen that far? Considering she was sitting shackled in an unmarked carriage destined for a secret dungeon, the answer was equally as uncomfortable. Pushing the thought from her mind, she put on her best smile in spite of the hood and said, ¡°We could take turns if you really want.¡±

    She felt the guard¡¯s body shift as he twisted his torso around, winding up for what would surely be a painful swing. The officer across from them was quick to put a stop to it, ¡°Bronson, no! Leave it.¡±

    And that was the last of any sort of conversation Daana was able to coax out of her escorts. Not for a lack of trying. Alas, no matter what tactics she used, the three guards remained tightlipped and unyielding.

    With her vision trapped in perpetual darkness, she had no way of keeping track of how long the carriage bumped along the cobbled road. Eventually, the terrain beneath the clackity wooden wheels shifted from stone to dirt. She assumed this meant they were on the outskirts of the capital, perhaps beyond the city wall itself. After a while the cart took an unexpected turn and Daana squeezed further against the shoulder of the guard on her left.

    She didn¡¯t have to listen to his unintelligible grumblings for very long. The guard had barely pushed her back into position when the carriage rolled to a gentle stop. Once more, she heard the creak of a poorly oiled carriage door seconds before she was being half-pulled, half-pushed from the bench seat and onto the awaiting ground below.

    She twisted her head to either side, her eyes straining against the dark cloth to make out any sort of detail as to her surroundings. It was a futile effort. What she could tell was that the air was fresher here. The usual stench of city living was strangely absent, as was the hustle and bustle noise of a busy city. Definitely outside of the capital, she concluded.

    ¡°Walk,¡± the guard on her left commanded as he yanked her roughly forward. The crunch of dirt underfoot changed to stone again and from the sudden chill and decrease in light, Daana assumed they had passed into an airy building. If uncle¡¯s chilling words were to be believed, it was a dungeon. Probably just one of the many dungeons that those in power claimed didn¡¯t exist.

    Obviously she couldn¡¯t see any sort of front desk or reception area, not that she was familiar enough with dungeons to know if they even had such a thing. It was probably safe to assume there would be no mint on her pillow. Probably not a pillow either. Or a bed. Maybe she could find a nice dead rat to sleep on.

    Low voices drew her from her thoughts. Whatever conversation was exchanged was wrapped up quickly and Daana found herself being delivered into a different set of hands. These ones came attached to a much larger body. One that smelled like cheap cigars and unwashed armpits. She felt a warm, sweaty hand wrap over her shackled wrists as the other pressed flat against her shoulder. Pressure from the palm on her shoulder told her that it was time to move again.

    The warden, jailer, guard¨Cwhomever this person was, walked her several paces and then took a sharp turn. The stairs came next. The stone steps were small and poorly spaced, spiraling upwards in such an endless manner Daana feared the guard was taking her all the way to the top just to prove a point. The putrid stench of overflowed chamber pots and mildew permeated her burning lungs as they climbed ever higher.

    She heard a muffled scream in the distance. Or at least she thought she did¨Cstill kind of hard to know for sure with the damn hood muffling everything going on around her. Perhaps it¡¯d just been the wind. Or a mouse, or a creaky door, or the tortured soul of one of the many ghosts that undoubtedly haunted the dark corridors in the dead of night.

    On second thought, this was a terrible plan. Why in the name of chaos did she agree to this?

    To the relief of her aching feet, they eventually reached the desired floor and the guard hauled her down a poorly lit passageway. The hand wrapped over her wrists yanked her to a halt. Daana heard the jangle of iron keys on a keyring next and then nearly jumped out of her skin when the guard raised his voice. ¡°Stand at attention, back wall!¡±

    Daana had a sickly feeling that he wasn¡¯t addressing her.

    The door swung open with a shrill creak moments before Daana felt her shackles unlock and the hood was yanked from her head. An ungentle shove sent her careening into the open doorway. Catching her balance, Daana spun around in time to see the barred door slam behind her. The guard tested the integrity of the lock and then left, his heavy footsteps growing softer as he disappeared down the unlit corridor.

    Flexing the life back into her numb fingers, Daana turned and attempted to gauge her gloomy surroundings. Her vision adjusted rather quickly, which she normally would have been grateful for, except that in this case the shadow that loomed over her turned out not to be a trick of the low light at all, but a person.

    A low voice rumbled over the top of her head. ¡°I hate it when they make me slaughter my own dinner.¡±

 128 - No More Lone Martyr *Stuff*

    The steady drip-drip-drip of water leaking from somewhere within the dilapidated walls faded into the background as Oralia crept along the deserted passageway. Occasionally she would hear the scuttling of feet, followed by a scuffle, sometimes a scream, and then nothing. The ominous silence would eventually give way to the steady drip of water once more. There weren¡¯t many stragglers left. From the sounds of it, her team was making short work of the few soldiers foolish enough to have stayed behind.

    The old military settlement she was currently picking her way through had clearly seen better days. The lanterns that normally brightened the passageways were either unlit or missing altogether, adding a layer of darkness to an already unpleasant experience. It was times like these that made her grateful she was no longer the Protector of the Realm. Had she visited this particular settlement during her service, she would have ripped the command a new one for allowing their regiments to live in such squalor.

    That was all in the past, however. And instead of inspecting the grounds, Oralia now found herself in the unique position of actively hunting its former occupants. She and her small force had split at the last four way cross section, intent on flushing any stragglers towards the exit and into the awaiting arms of the recovery team¨Cany that survived, that is. Certain members of her crew were more eager than others and did not quite grasp the concept of capturing their quarry alive.

    For the first time in what felt like ages, Oralia found herself alone. The silence itself was a small blessing. Well, would have been, were it not for the nagging whisper that infiltrated her thoughts. You can feel it, can¡¯t you? The hunger that flows through your veins? That¡¯s the call of magic. And we¡¯re getting closer to the source. To the left, now!

    Doing her best not to roll her eyes, Oralia ducked right instead.

    Daft, orc. You¡¯re going the wrong way!

    This portion of the building looked to be the officer¡¯s barracks. She crept down the gloomy passage with its bowed, planked walls and sagging ceiling. Around her, the musty air reeked of water damage and wood rot. Oralia checked several open doors as she passed, all of which were in various stages of abandonment. These chambers were bigger than the ones she¡¯d seen on the way in. Each room was outfitted with a wooden desk and a single bunk¨Cthe sign of rank when it came to military strongholds.

    In the distance, faint footsteps grew louder. Whatever officers were still trapped in the barracks were being driven her way. And, judging by the speed of the oncoming footsteps, they had abandoned all sense of stealth in favor of a desperate run.

    The powerstone hanging around her neck thrummed against her skin. Turn back around! It¡¯s getting further a¨C

    Oralia shut herself off to the voice that rippled across her mind. Now was not the time to get distracted. With her broadsword gripped in her dominant hand, she retreated into the protection of an open doorway and waited for the approaching footsteps to draw within striking range. The reason for the runner¡¯s speed was soon apparent. Oralia¡¯s heightened hearing picked up two additional sets of footsteps. There were voices as well. Male, human voices with which Oralia was regretfully all too familiar.

    ¡°Will you shove off?¡± Lingon snapped. ¡°This one¡¯s mine! I had to tear down an entire barricade just to flush ¡®im out! You can¡¯t jump in mid-chase.¡±

    ¡°What? And let another elf outfox you? We¡¯ve got a namesake to uphold, Dingle. I¡¯m not gonna let you tarnish it ¡®cause you¡¯re too proud to ask for help.¡±

    Judging from the brothers¡¯ bickering, it was a miracle they had not abandoned the chase to set their sights on each other yet. Was this progress? Mul and Lingon were getting better at staying on task, to the point where Oralia no longer had to send a chaperone to ensure they kept in line.

    Oralia glanced around the edge of the door. The runner was nearly to her, crossing the intersection where the current hallway intersected with the next, when a dark shape took the soldier out at the knees. Oralia leapt from the protection of the doorway and started towards the scene in the event the capture required her assistance. There was no need, however. The struggling soldier was subdued with neat, practiced precision.

    Mul and Lingon¡¯s slogging steps reached the intersection only seconds ahead of Oralia. ¡°Dammit, Rali,¡± Lingon whined. ¡°That one was mine!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t use that tone when speaking to my future wife,¡± Mul said.

    ¡°What¡¯s that, Mulberry? You want to join the prisoner on the floor?¡± The threat in Rali¡¯s tone bordered on lethal. ¡°Keep it up then. There¡¯s plenty of room down here, bucko!¡±

    A shit-eating grin stretched across Mul¡¯s heavily bearded face. ¡°Pickle, we agreed we wouldn¡¯t fight in front of company. You can wrestle me all you like in the privacy of our bedroom.¡±

    ¡°Only if I get to burn it down with you inside afterwards.¡± With a look of absolute disgust, Rali stood and dusted her hands together. ¡°This here¡¯s number three for me. Remind me what score you two are at again? Still in the negative?¡±

    Lingon crossed his arms over his chest, muttering, ¡°It ain¡¯t fair that it counts against me each time I accidently kill one. I can¡¯t help it that their necks are so fragile!¡±

    ¡°To the losers goes the grunt work,¡± Rali stepped over the bound soldier with a familiar swagger in her step. ¡°Which one of you dingleberries is going to deliver him for processing?¡±

    The cool, smooth exterior of the pendant grew inexplicably warm against Oralia¡¯s skin. It hung heavy and pulled at her, like an anchor. To the left, orc. To the left! The source of power is near. It¡¯s hiding, but I can find it for you.

    It was then that Oralia noticed Rali gazing up at her, her nose wrinkled in scrutiny. ¡°You alright there, boss?¡±

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Oralia lied.

    ¡°That thing¡¯s talking to you again, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    There was no sense in denying what Rali obviously already knew. ¡°It senses a witch nearby.¡±

    While trapping a dark, magical entity into a powerstone had prevented it from wreaking havoc on the mortal world, the aftermath was not without complications. What to do with the stone afterwards, for example, was still being debated. Despite Ellisar¡¯s insistence that they drop the gem into the deepest trench at the bottom of the ocean and hope for the best, others felt it was only a temporary solution. A magic this strong attracted attention and eventually someone, somehow, would find it.

    There was also the issue of the dark lines burrowed beneath her skin, tagging along like a cursed parasite. Back on the mountain, unbeknownst to them, the entity had splintered during the final spell. And while the powerstone housed the majority of it, she and Daana each carried a piece. Rasp may have as well but, considering the last time she¡¯d set eyes on him, he was being carried off in the clutches of a dragon, Oralia had no objective way of knowing for certain.

    Thus, she elected to keep the powerstone close until its fate could be decided. Without magic of her own, it was incapable of corrupting her. This, regretfully, did not prevent the damn thing from constantly whispering in her ear.

    ¡°Fucking witches.¡± Lingon shuddered. ¡°Tell you what, you all deal with the magic nonsense. I¡¯ll go deliver the prisoner and those of us still with heads can go raid the cantina for a drink afterwards.¡±

    ¡°Nice try, bucko. This is an all hands situation.¡± Rali reached out and grabbed him by the collar before he could slink away. She turned and employed a tone of voice that gently reminded Oralia what she was supposed to be doing. ¡°Shall I signal for the rest of the team then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. Thank you.¡± Her days of carrying out a mission single-handedly were over. Rali referred to the new policy as ¡®no more lone martyr shit¡¯. Between her and Sascha, it was a miracle Oralia was permitted to go anywhere without someone holding her hand. She knew it was out of concern, and tried to view it from their perspective, but it felt like overkill nonetheless.

    Rali¡¯s infamous bird screech rang out, echoing along the empty corridors like a lost banshee in a labyrinth. Lingon waited until it was safe to uncover his ears again before voicing his complaints. ¡°If you¡¯ve got backup coming, then you definitely don¡¯t need me. You always complain that I just get in the way.¡±

    ¡°I, for one, support our fearless leader¡¯s tactical decision,¡± Mul congratulated with a hearty pat to Rali¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Well done, Quartzey. I do hope our children take after their mother.¡±

    Quartz Ralizak was, by nature, not the type to let a fickle thing like virtue get between her and her revenge. Anyone who earned her wrath generally had the shattered kneecaps to prove it. The fact that the dwarf was actively restraining herself from seizing Mul by the wrist and flipping him head over heels onto the floor should have been commendable. Unfortunately, Oralia knew it was her presence and not personal growth that was keeping the bothersome man alive and well.

    Rali clenched her jaw as her normally pale skin took on a hue similar to that of a ripe tomato. She locked eyes with Oralia, communicating her displeasure through the placement of a well-furrowed brow. Over the years together they¡¯d honed their ability to hold a silent conversation, or¨Cin this case and, regretfully, almost all cases¨Cargument. Oralia imagined Rali¡¯s protest went something like: ¡®One more word, that¡¯s it, and this human¡¯s already short lifespan is going to get significantly shorter!¡¯

    In turn, Oralia¡¯s unamused expression replied, ¡®You cannot kill him.¡¯

    ¡®Can and will, boss. Watch me. Look, I¡¯ll even do it with the bucko¡¯s own knife. Ha! Killed by his own weapon, wouldn¡¯t that be a scream?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯ Oralia was forced to rely on several hand signals to properly convey her line of reasoning. ¡®We are guests in this territory. We must maintain a united front. Turn on each other now, and those in power will cast us out.¡¯

    Rali rolled her eyes as if to say, ¡®What¡¯s the point of being an outlaw if I can¡¯t murder as I see fit?¡¯

    ¡®Outlaws do not murder their teammates.¡¯

    ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll settle for a light stabbing. Deal?¡¯

    ¡®No stabbing!¡¯

    From the corner of her vision, Oralia saw Mul lean closer to Lingon. ¡°Why¡¯s it look like they¡¯re fucking each other with their eyes?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a form of non-verbal communication,¡± Lingon replied matter-of-factly. ¡°So they can converse without us hearing all the juicy details, I¡¯d wager.¡± Whereas Mul was loud, abrasive, and bullheaded, Lingon was also these things, but craftier. The younger Stoneclaw was always watching, always learning, always finding new and inventive ways to make Oralia pull her hair out. There was an undeniable spark of intelligence disguised beneath his slimy, rough and tumble exterior¨Cwhich was saying a lot for a man who currently had a blasted finger shoved up his nose.

    Mul was simpler. There was often only one of three things on his mind and, judging from his eager eyebrows, Oralia could already guess which of the three was currently rattling around his large head. He gave Lingon a playful nudge. ¡°Juicy, huh? Are they fighting over who gets to have their way with me first?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, something like that.¡± Lingon flipped his long hair over his shoulder in order to peer at Rali without it obstructing his vision. ¡°Since bossy britches here ain¡¯t letting you have your fun, can I earn extra points by hitting Mul for you?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Rali looked as though she was fighting the sudden urge to stomp her foot. ¡°Nobody does my hitting for me. The only person who does Rali¡¯s hitting is Rali!¡±

    The brother¡¯s exchanged glances before Lingon¡¯s mouth pulled into a wolfish smile. ¡°Is Rali swooning so hard she talks in the third person now?¡±

    ¡°Mul thinks there¡¯s nothing wrong with talking in the third person,¡± Mul said. ¡°Also, Mul is an excellent swooner. Thank you for the compliment, Lingon. You are re-invited to the wedding.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going about this the wrong way, brother. You have to be cold and aloof. The trick is to make her think you¡¯re disinterested and then, when she¡¯s least expecting it, pay her a compliment. Like this, ¡®My word, Rali, those exquisite specks of blood on your face really bring out the color of your eyes¡¯.¡±

    Rali balled her hands into fists, but said nothing. Even in the low light, it was not difficult to see the shade of tomato on her face had turned deep crimson. Oralia considered coming to the dwarf¡¯s aid, but doubted Rali would appreciate it. In the end, it would only encourage the Stoneclaw brothers to double down on their efforts to...woo her? Torture her? Push her into a frenzied killing spree? Oralia still wasn¡¯t one hundred percent sure what their objective was.

    ¡°See?¡± Lingon dug into his sibling¡¯s side with the tip of his elbow, grinning. ¡°Drives her crazy every time.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this,¡± Rali groaned as she turned back to Oralia. ¡°But can we get back to finding the witch already? The sooner we¡¯re out of here, the sooner I can go start digging some unmarked graves.¡±

    ¡°We are awaiting the rest of the team,¡± Oralia reminded her. She could hear at least two of them in the distance, steadily drawing closer as they navigated the labyrinth of dark passageways.

    ¡°They¡¯ll catch up easy enough,¡± the dwarf said, eyeing the pair of brothers with a rather unnerving twinkle in her eye. ¡°Should be pretty straightforward given the blood trail we¡¯ll be leaving behind.¡±

    ¡°I said no stabbing.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. You mentioned nothing about bludgeoning.¡±

 129 - Magic Smells Of Lies And Deception

    Movement from further down the corridor spared Oralia from having to listen to any more of her team¡¯s ceaseless griping. She recognized the first of the approaching forms from his quiet confidence. The dwarf captain, Almas Bernstein, walked with his head high and shoulders squared. His second officer trailed in his wake, gripping her ax with less confidence as she gazed up and down the dark passageway. The third arrival was more difficult to spot. They slunk along the curve of the dilapidated walls, utilizing every shadow to disguise their swift progress.

    ¡°Captain Bernstein,¡± Oralia greeted the lead dwarf. She addressed his lieutenant next in a similar fashion. It was the third arrival¡¯s name, however, that took effort to say. Not through any fault of their own, of course. ¡°Snag.¡±

    The goblin that stepped from shadows was most certainly not Snaglebrag. The simple truth was Dewpetal looked nothing like Snag. She wasn¡¯t even the same species of goblin, for crying out loud. As Dewpetal was the only stand-in they could muster on such short notice, Oralia was making it work the best she could. Not that the differences in appearance seemed to matter. A goblin was a goblin, as far as their enemies were concerned. If her intelligence was to be believed, Geralt Lazuli was still unaware that the real Snag and Ellisar had already slipped past his defenses.

    Rali¡¯s spirits perked at the rest of the team¡¯s arrival. ¡°Alright, spill it. How many did you guys get?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t find it necessary to make everything a competition,¡± Captain Bernstein spoke for him and his lieutenant, unconsciously fiddling with the ends of his beard as he often did in Rali¡¯s presence.

    ¡°None again, huh, Almas? That¡¯s alright, at least you¡¯re not in the negative. What about you?¡± Rali turned to the goblin and displayed three fingers.

    Dewpetal held aloft seven clawed fingertips with a triumphant smile.

    There was a collective groan from the others. One of the Stoneclaw brothers hissed under their breath, ¡°She cheats worse than the real Snag!¡±

    ¡°We cleared the north and west corridors,¡± Captain Bernstein said to Oralia as the others were too concerned with the score to listen. ¡°Is there something we may assist you with, Madam Pro¨C¡±

    ¡°Oralia.¡±

    ¡°Madam Oralia.¡±

    ¡°Just Oralia.¡± As she did not intend to stick around long enough to earn a title, she insisted upon being referred to strictly by her name. Old habits were hard to break and her former rank had a habit of slipping out of people¡¯s mouths. ¡°We have a witch on our hands. I believe they are holed up in one of these rooms employing some sort of anti-detection spell.¡±

    Locating the witch would not be difficult thanks to the powerstone that hung from the chain around her neck. The entity trapped within the gem fed exclusively on magic to survive. Its constant thirst for power made it quite useful when tracking down witches. Captain Bernstein didn¡¯t know of the stone¡¯s existence, of course, and Oralia intended to keep it that way.

    Captain Bernstein must have seen the terror that flashed across his lieutenant¡¯s tawny face and took pity on her. He gestured to the bound elf sprawled across the ground with his iron tipped boot. ¡°First, we will need to do something with our friend here. Lieutenant, will you see that they are safely escorted from the danger?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± His lieutenant heaved the prisoner into an upright position and marched them towards the entrance.

    Lingon watched her go, pouting. ¡°Not fair! I called dibs.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, bucko. We¡¯ve got a special job just for you.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re talking about being the bait again, forget it. That last witch extraction nearly took my left nut.¡±

    ¡°Which is why we now stress the importance of proper clothing.¡±

    Clearing his throat in an unspoken command for silence, Captain Bernstein shifted his stance as his concerned gaze returned to Oralia. ¡°I am happy to assist with the witch extraction, but I am afraid I won¡¯t be much help in the tracking department. Short of Adderwood¡¯s former dealings with the Division of Divination, my encounters with people of the magical variety have been few and far between. I wouldn¡¯t even know the first step to tracking a witch.¡±

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry about that, Cappy,¡± Rali assured him with a playful elbow to the armor shielding his ribs. ¡°Oralia¡¯s got a nose for magic. Just hang back with the rest of us, she¡¯ll lead us right to the scoundrel.¡±

    The captain¡¯s copper-colored eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ¡°Miss Ralizak, if that was meant to be informative, it has only left me with more questions. Most notably, how?¡±

    A glare from Oralia served to only encourage Rali¡¯s boundless imagination. ¡°Well it¡¯s a bit of a newfound ability, you see. Something she picked up on the mountain after the whole¨C¡± Rali waggled her fingers over her head, simulating some sort of explosion with her hands, which, alas, included sound effects. ¡°Being that close to potent magic can have unintended effects on the body, you know. It sort of imprinted into her internal synapses and made her extra sensitive to spellwork. Effectively, the boss can now smell magic.¡±

    His eyes grew wide in awe. ¡°Unbelievable.¡±

    ¡°Truly,¡± Oralia agreed, taking the lead.

    Captain Bernstein formed rank beside her and lowered his deep voice to a whisper. ¡°What does magic smell like?¡±

    Like lies and deception!

    This is why she insisted on being excluded from Rali¡¯s games. Oralia had never been good at fabricating untruths, at least not without hours of extensive rehearsal beforehand. Her ability to ad lib on a moment¡¯s notice was not an ability at all, but an invariable weakness. ¡°...Celery.¡±

    She heard several stifled snickers behind her, but none of them dared say anything outright.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Oralia navigated the dim corridor with the voice of the entity rippling across her thoughts. Closer, closer, stop!

    She held out her palm, motioning for the others to halt behind her. Alone, she ventured several paces forward and examined the entrance to the room that lay before her. The paint chipped door was sealed shut with no light coming from underneath. Ignoring the tarnished handle, Oralia placed her hand against the wood instead. Tiny, magical vibrations shot up her arm and slammed into her chest, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs.

    Shit.

    She pulled away, wringing the sting from her fingers. Incapable of escaping its gemstone prison, the dark entity had a way of attracting outside magic towards it, utilizing Oralia as a conductor between it and its intended food source.

    As much as it pained her to admit, she wished Daana was here. She would have known immediately what sort of witch they were facing and the best way to defeat it.

    With a signal to Mul to keep watch, Oralia retreated several yards back down the corridor where their hushed conversation would be less likely to be overheard. ¡°I cannot tell how powerful our quarry is,¡± she whispered. ¡°We will have to proceed with absolute caution. Ralizak, do you have any more powder charges?¡±

    ¡°Two, I think.¡±

    Lingon wrapped his arms over his scrawny chest in a self-embrace, grumbling, ¡°Would have been more if you¡¯d let me carry ¡®em.¡±

    The charges had been a parting gift from Snaglebrag. His recovery after the mountain had been spent experimenting with his mysterious black powder. The charges were not only effective, but downright terrifying. Fearful the Stoneclaw brothers would use them on each other, Oralia had appointed Rali as the designated carrier. The occasional distant boom in the night oftentimes made her wonder if that decision had been shortsighted.

    ¡°We will use the charge to take out the door and hopefully any obstacles beyond.¡± Oralia reached into the pouch on her hip and withdrew a folded slip of parchment and a chalk stick. After witnessing the symbol¡¯s power on the mountain, she had been sure to copy a number of runes from Daana¡¯s green spellbook. ¡°Lingon, etch a seer¡¯s trap onto either side of the corridor, several yards from the doorway. There is a chance whomever is inside will flee once the door comes down. I would rather catch them through smarts than brute force.¡±

    Lingon¡¯s gaze dropped to the items deposited into his hands. ¡°Why¡¯s it I always get tasked with the hedonistic symbolatry?¡±

    Rali¡¯s response was sufficient in sending him on his way. ¡°Because any time I try to use you as the bait, you run away.¡±

    ¡°I do not mean to call your strategy into question,¡± Captain Bernstein whispered. ¡°But all of this sounds incredibly dangerous, possibly lethal. As the Adderwood representative on this mission, I do feel it would be proper to offer the individual inside the opportunity to surrender first.¡±

    ¡°And give away our element of surprise?¡± Rali hissed. ¡°Are you out of mind, bucko? There¡¯s no etiquette rulebook at play here. This is war!¡±

    ¡°More of a revolution, actually. One in which you and your commanding officer¨C¡±

    ¡°Friend,¡± Oralia corrected.

    ¡°¨Chave been brought on as temporary consultants.¡±

    Rali took a daring step forward, locking eyes with the slightly taller dwarf. ¡°The whole point of hiring a consultant is to listen to them, yeah? Well listen here, bucko. Your plan is stupid and short sighted. Not only are you taking away our main advantage, but you¡¯re going to give our enemy the opportunity to throw the first punch.¡± Rali must have seen the way Oralia¡¯s eyebrows lifted, because she added, with a dramatic roll of her eyes, ¡°Metaphorically speaking, of course. Obviously the witch is going to be using magic and not throwing literal punches.¡±

    Captain Bernstein was clearly not accustomed to being talked down to by someone he considered to be a subordinate. Most officers in his position would have been infuriated by the blatant disrespect, but he merely gazed back at Rali, twisting his beard in what might have been amusement. ¡°Technically speaking, you¡¯re not hired consultants as the New Adderwood Republic does not possess the funds to pay you.¡±

    ¡°Kinda feels like you¡¯re focusing on the wrong details here, Cappy.¡±

    ¡°Your warning was heard loud and clear, Miss Ralizak. I appreciate your expertise. We will be doing it by the rulebook, regardless.¡±

    As much as she agreed with Rali, Captain Bernstein was their designated military escort and, therefore, in charge. The last thing Oralia needed was to have active warrants for her arrest in more than one nation at a time. Besides, it wasn¡¯t her war. So what if they did poorly? Her role was simply to act as a distraction, focusing Geralt¡¯s attention away from the capital, until which time Ashwyn could be found and freed.

    Oralia stepped between the dwarfs, pushing Rali back with one hand before her former lieutenant ripped the captain¡¯s beard from his face. ¡°If you feel it necessary, Captain. We will follow your lead.¡±

    When the others were in position, Captain Bernstein pressed himself flat against the mold speckled wall alongside the doorway. He slammed the butt of his ax against the ground with such force, a portion of the roof sprinkled down over the top of his helm like rotten, crumbly rain. ¡°This is Captain Almas Bernstein of the New Adderwood Republic. We have you surrounded. All who surrender will be unharm¨C¡±

    Oralia felt the wave of magic before it struck. She managed to yell for the others to take cover a split second before the oak door ripped from its hinges in a shower of white sparks. A cloud of smoke rolled through the musty corridor, choking the air. As the buzzing in her ears lowered to a tolerable hum, Oralia uncovered her head, suddenly aware that there was an additional body pressed against her.

    ¡°Ralizak?¡±

    ¡°I told that fucker this would happen!¡± Rali had her limbs spread wide, as if to shield as much of Oralia as her squat frame could allow. The dwarf tilted her head upwards, squinting through the haze at Oralia. ¡°You alright, boss? Still got your head? All ten fingers and toes?¡±

    ¡°Please stop doing that. The armor I am wearing is perfectly adequate. You checked it yourself only this morning.¡± Through the smoke, Oralia saw a shadow dart from the smoldering room. ¡°On the move! South-west corridor.¡±

    There was a cacophony of sound as several bodies leapt from the protection of the wall and gave chase at once. A channel of pale green light flared further down the passage, highlighting the chalk circle etched over the floor. Lingon reached the seer¡¯s trap steps ahead of the others. His nasally voice rang out with indignation. ¡°Mul?¡±

    The larger brother stood stock-still, with his arms held midair, eyes wide and petrified. ¡°Lingon, what the fuck did you do to the symbol? It¡¯s supposed to catch witches, not me!¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯d the witch go?¡±

    ¡°The little fucker sidled past!¡±

    ¡°Sucks for you then,¡± Lingon snickered as he pressed his shoulders to the wall and awkwardly shuffled around the seer¡¯s trap, mindful not to step inside.

    ¡°Oh come on!¡± Mul bellowed as Rali and Captain Bernstein¡¯s respective shapes bounded across the symbol unaffected by the anti-magic spell. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me here, you bastards.¡±

    Oralia stopped and smudged the chalk symbol with the toe of her boot. The eerie glow of the magic faded, rendering the corridor dark once more. ¡°Mul, this is the second time you have been caught by a seer¡¯s trap. You do realize this means¨C¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯ve got ground to cover. I know!¡± Released from the trap, he took off at a headlong sprint.

    With a shake of her head, Oralia caught up to him just as he rounded the corner. The chase was over as quickly as it had begun. The others stood in various states of frustration only a short ways away. Oralia slowed her step as the reason for the sudden stop became apparent. A human was strewn across the ground with their hands bound, groaning. Focused on the captured witch, Oralia nearly missed the goblin lingering in the shadows beside the body, proudly holding eight fingers aloft.

 130 - Level The Playing Field

    Rasp¡¯s feet pounded against the cobblestone, sending jolts of pain coursing upwards through his leaden legs. He ran, unable to focus on anything more than setting one stubborn foot in front of the other, as Whisper guided them deeper into the mazework of back alley streets and unlit ginnels. Rasp didn¡¯t know where they were going and had a sneaking suspicion that Whisper didn¡¯t either. He continued to slam his aching heels against the buckled street regardless, as the sounds of their pursuers grew fainter in the distance.

    He and Whisper were gaining the lead. Which was a good sign, because Rasp wasn¡¯t sure how much longer he could carry on. Already, his lungs felt as if they were folding in on themselves. Everything hurt¨Chis knees, his bones, the steadily growing throb that tightened on the inside of his skull, threatening to send his brain matter shooting through his eye sockets.

    ¡°So dramatic,¡± Whisper muttered.

    He may have been short of breath, but that didn¡¯t mean he wouldn¡¯t make the effort to complain when the opportunity presented itself. ¡°You know, when you first kidnapped me¨C¡±

    ¡°I did not kidnap you. I relocated you. By surprise.¡± Whisper added, quietly, ¡°Very suddenly.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Well you failed to mention there would be this much running!¡±

    Prior to his surprise relocation, Rasp hadn¡¯t had much experience with cities. Zero experience, to be exact. Lonebrook had been the largest populated settlement he¡¯d ever visited and he had found that overwhelming at times. The idea was somewhat laughable now. Alas, his newfound career as a fugitive witch meant Rasp had become well acquainted with cities of all shapes and sizes. Much of this experience constituted running through them attempting to evade the law, but he chalked it up to useful nonetheless.

    There was one thing that stuck out to him. Be it a wealthy cityscape that straddled the western coastline, or a landlocked sprawl surrounded by expansive farmland, there was a common denominator that united all of the cities of the realm: the seedy underbelly. It didn¡¯t matter if the city had iron gates and the finest towering stone walls to keep the rabble out. You could bet your last coin that beyond the cobbled pavers and lantern lit streetways, there existed a district the rest of society turned a blind eye to. It was these such places, Rasp discovered, that he usually found himself neck deep in trouble.

    Tonight was no exception.

    ¡°Curse this abysmal city!¡± Whisper¡¯s fingers dug deep into Rasp¡¯s arm as his mentor pulled him to an abrupt halt.

    ¡°What?¡± Rasp whipped his head from side to side, resisting the urge to keel over from exhaustion. Whatever moonlight had managed to break through the dense cloud bank above stopped at the terraced roofline, rendering the surrounding alleyway impossibly dark. A light wind whipped through the stone alleyway, carrying with it bits of garbage and the stench of spoiled food and manure.

    Rasp¡¯s dry words came out between desperate gulps for air. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°A dead end.¡±

    ¡°So? We just up-and-over it.¡± It wasn¡¯t like this was the first time such a thing had happened. Being a blasted witch had to have some advantages, after all.

    ¡°Normally I would agree, but one of our pursuers presents a problem with that plan.¡± Before Rasp could ask how, Whisper turned him to face the mouth of the alleyway. ¡°Do as we have practiced. Reach out with your magic and listen to what it is telling you.¡±

    Old Rasp would have protested the idea, insisting their remaining time was better spent finding an alternate escape route. Current Rasp felt similarly. The only difference being that he now possessed the wisdom not to mock Whisper¡¯s suggestion out loud. Stifling a sigh, Rasp sucked in a lungful of dingy alley air and focused on his heartbeat, allowing its rampant drum to drown out his other senses.

    His magic intermingled with the breeze and allowed the current to pull it further down the dark alleyway. A series of faint energy pulses glowed within his mind, growing stronger as their sources neared. ¡°I sense three witches,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good. Dig deeper. Tell me what type.¡±

    Rasp tried to focus on the energies but the effort succeeded only in making his head swim. ¡°Red, green, and blue?¡±

    ¡°Are we in primary school, little bird? Those are colors, not magical classifications.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, alright!¡±

    ¡°An earth elemental, an energy caster, and an alchemist.¡± Whisper kindly provided the answer. ¡°The reason we cannot up-and-over it, as you put it, is because the energy caster would strike us down the moment we tried.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    In other words, they were trapped and the only way out would be to go through the enemy. Lovely. He tilted his head, listening as three steps of footsteps flooded into the narrow alley. Try as he might, there was simply not enough light to distinguish the new arrivals from the dark blur of their environment.

    ¡°You are surrounded!¡± a voice bellowed across from them, reverberating off the surrounding stone buildings. ¡°Surrender now and¨C¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t bother to listen to the rest of the witch¡¯s instructions. Having heard one overconfident call for surrender, you had heard them all. They ended basically the same anyway: give us what we want or we hurt you. Rasp leaned closer to Whisper and said, ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. What is your plan?¡±

    ¡°My plan?¡± he sputtered. ¡°You¡¯re the mentor! You¡¯re supposed to tell me the plan and I half-ass my way through it.¡±

    ¡°I would not be a good mentor if I spent your entire training handing you the answers, little bird. I have full confidence that you can devise a competent strategy to free both of us of our present situation.¡±

    Before Rasp could voice his outrage, a crackling ball of green energy zipped between them and erupted against the wall at their backs. Shattered bits of brick and stone shrapnel ricocheted across the alleyway amidst the downpour of green sparks.

    ¡°Hey! We weren¡¯t ready!¡± With his temper flaring, Rasp drew inwards, hastily searching for the nearest element. The breeze responded, whispering into his ear as it tousled his hair across his face. Rasp reached out with his magic, harnessing the power of the wind, and channeled it into a single force. He could feel the warm heat of the energy caster¡¯s power building into another attack across from him. With seconds to spare, Rasp unleashed the torrent of air into the narrow alleyway. Over the howling wind raging in his ears, he was rewarded with the panicked screams of his attackers as they were buffeted backwards.

    It wasn¡¯t a lasting measure by any means, but it did provide him with the opportunity to turn to Whisper and ask, ¡°That was too close, even for you. You depleted your magic with that little spell back in the square, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Regrettably, yes. But I still maintain that it is important for you to learn to rely on yourself,¡± Whisper admitted, sounding remarkably unconcerned over the fact that their current powers were only a shadow of what they once were. The latent effects of iron poisoning, unfortunately. ¡°Now, stop thinking about me and focus on the fight at hand. You are outnumbered and your opponents currently have you on the defensive when you should be on the offensive. What is your first prerogative?¡±

    Level the playing field. If Rasp couldn¡¯t rely on vision to aid him, then neither should his opponents. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a single matchstick.

    ¡°Oh dear gods,¡± Whisper groaned.

    ¡°You told me to do this my way. This is how I¡¯m doing it.¡± Before Whisper could knock any sense into him, Rasp struck the match against his belt and a flicker of flame ignited the gloom. Fire was one of the easier elements to manipulate. Control, no. Manipulate, yes. Burn the town down in the process? Sometimes. All that mattered now was that he and Whisper got away.

    Rasp pictured a blazing ball of flame and willed it into existence. In a single pulse, a beacon of light flared across the alleyway, chasing the darkness away and blinding his pursuers with the sudden transition from dark to light. It remained solid for only a few seconds before the magic broke loose, shooting tiny fireballs in every which way.

    ¡°Crap!¡± Rasp said, realizing several of the burning balls of fire were hurtling in his direction.

    A flickering blaze of blue light leapt up around him, shielding both him and Whisper from the fiery onslaught. Rasp uncovered his face and then checked his hands, realizing the magic was not his own. With a heavy sigh, he turned to his mentor, grousing, ¡°What happened to your magic being depleted?¡±

    ¡°I thought perhaps a sense of false urgency would cause you to make better decisions. Obviously I was wrong.¡±

    Whisper¡¯s protection spell dimmed, allowing Rasp to get an idea of what sort of damage he¡¯d inflicted to the alleyway. The scattered flames spread by his fireball provided enough contrast for him to pick out the outlines of his attackers from their muddled surroundings. One looked to be down for the count and possibly on fire. The other two, unfortunately, were no worse for the wear and had regrouped a sensible distance away from the worst of the flames.

    Before Rasp could ask which of the three he¡¯d managed to take out, the buckled cobblestone heaved beneath his feet, sending him flat on his ass. A hazy swirl of red magic lifted slabs of broken street into the air across from him. Shouting a spell at the top of her lungs, the earth elemental hurled her arsenal in their direction.

    Rasp threw his palms out in front of him and the debris jerked to a stop midair. Gritting his teeth, he staggered to his feet as raw magic poured from his hands, forcing the shrapnel in the opposite direction. Yellow sparked against red as his magic combatted the other. He was gaining the upper hand, having forced her into retreat, when a stray flash of green struck the building above him, sending a cascade of broken clay tiles onto his head.

    Oh how he missed the days of the bare-knuckled brawl. Things had been simpler back then. The rules were more straightforward¨Cno weapons, no magic, just a man and his fists. ¡°This is why nobody likes witches!¡±

    Rasp rushed forward, channeling all of his power into his magic as he tripped and stumbled over the shattered roof tiles. Blood trickled from a fresh split in his forehead, but the pain faded into the background as fresh rage pumped through his veins. The earth elemental was weakening. Rasp could feel her concentration slipping. Despite the dark of the alleyway, he swore he could see her magical signature pulsing within the center of his vision. He followed it, like a beacon, barely conscious of the strange sensation stirring to life within his chest.

    Power, cold like ice, snaked and slithered beneath his skin. The sensation started at the base of his neck and spread downwards, wrapping his body in its icy tendrils. Amidst the chaos, a startling realization occurred to him. He was suddenly very, very hungry.

 131 - The Darkness

    The earth elementalist¡¯s spell was fading. Her crimson aura, once mouthwateringly bright, was dimming, growing smaller as her energy drained from her body. Rasp held back her arsenal of broken cobblestone with ease. He paused, allowing the power in his hands to build for the final push, when he noticed the two additional magical signatures pulsing out of the corner of his murky vision. His breath caught in his throat, realizing he wasn¡¯t seeing flashes of magic, but the witches themselves. Their tantalizing energies glowed against the dark, one blue and the other green, darting about as they tried to end one another.

    Whisper¡¯s aura was a weak flicker compared to that of their opponent. Rasp¡¯s poor, weary mentor was barely a mouthful at this point.

    Mouthful? Raps didn¡¯t have time to question why he was suddenly describing Whisper as if they were roasted meat on a stick. Still keeping the stones airborne with one hand, he reached out with the other and harnessed the breeze. He willed it stronger, and then did something he had never thought to try before. He combined two separate magical sources into one.

    His warning rang out a split second before he unleashed all of chaos onto the alleyway. ¡°Whisper, run!¡±

    Broken cobblestone and earth whipped around him in a deadly whirlwind, picking up speed as it grew in size. Rasp stood at its center, protected from the desperate flashes of green and red as his victims did everything in their power to combat the inevitable. He could no longer detect Whisper nearby, but it didn¡¯t matter. His mentor was smart enough to stay the fuck out of his way.

    Magic coursed through Rasp¡¯s veins, buzzing in the air around him in a deadly yellow glow as the wind whipped faster, faster, faster. And then, once certain he couldn¡¯t hold it a second longer, Rasp released. The wind surged away from him, blasting the surrounding walls with rock-laden debris. The buildings rattled and shook as shrapnel struck around him on all sides. As the noises around him stilled to a deathly quiet, Rasp at last, opened his eyes. The surrounding fires had gone out, leaving the alleyway impossibly dark once more. The air was thick with smoke and dust. He waved a hand in front of his face, attempting to keep it from invading his mouth and nostrils.

    A blast of green energy flared in his direction. Without thinking, Rasp lifted his hand and a wall of stone rose before him. The energy blast struck the other side in a blaze of green sparks, unable to penetrate the makeshift barrier. Another flick of Rasp¡¯s fingers sent the wall hurtling in the energy caster¡¯s direction. The stones found their mark, burying the witch beneath a pile of loose rubble.

    To his annoyance, their intoxicating aura still pulsed ever so faintly. Still alive, Rasp realized. But not for long. He could see to that himself.

    The blood in his veins had turned to ice. Rasp could feel his breath turning colder with each slow breath as the magic writhing beneath his skin wormed deeper. He didn¡¯t even have to think about his next move. It was coming to him all so clearly now. As if the instinct had been buried within him all along. A single flick of his wrist, that¡¯s all it would take, and he could cave the buildings in over the top of his foes.

    Little bird, no. This is not the way.

    Seriously? Whisper was stopping him now? After he was finally showing a knack for this? ¡°The Division of Divination is your sworn enemy,¡± Rasp reminded them. ¡°They¡¯ve been hounding us every step of the way. You never hesitated to thin out their ranks before.¡±

    This is not about them. This is about you. A faint blue aura appeared beside him. You are not the one in control. Drop your magic, now.

    There was urgency in Whisper¡¯s words. The magic pulled against Rasp¡¯s flesh, urging him to continue, to ignore Whisper¡¯s warning and release his wrath on those that wished to harm him.

    Raspberry Stoneclaw!

    The full name treatment wasn¡¯t necessary. Rasp already realized what was wrong. The magic writhing beneath his skin was not his own, not entirely anyway. Like a parasite, the darkness had latched its hooks into him and used him for its own devices. Fuck that. It was bad enough the darkness had hitched a ride inside of him like a bloodsucking leech, that didn¡¯t mean he had to feed it.

    He snapped his eyes shut, searching for something to latch onto and pull him from the darkness¡¯s grip. He listened for his heartbeat, but the dark magic fought back, wrapping tighter around him. His left hand spasmed, fingers curling with a will of their own as his arm lifted in the air independent of his control. Of fuck! No, no, no, no!

    Rasp grabbed his disobedient hand and bit down. Pain flooded his senses, drawing tears to his eyes, as his magical connection dissipated. The sudden drop in power caused him to stumble backwards. He cursed softly under his breath as his senses returned to him. Rasp rubbed the life back into his numb arms. Cold. He was so fucking cold. It felt like all of the blood had been drained from his body and replaced with glacier water.

    When will you fucking learn? That was stupid of you! Stupid, stupid, stupid¡­

    Rasp nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand touch his own. ¡°That was close, little bird,¡± Whisper said, their voice notably soft. ¡°Do not be angry at yourself. You stopped the darkness before it seized control. That is a feat not many could accomplish on their own.¡±

    Rasp stomped his feet in place, attempting to rid them of the awful pins and needles sensation coursing through both legs. ¡°Don¡¯t do that.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Whisper removed their hand, confused. ¡°Do what?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re proud of me. You¡¯ve done nothing but belittle me all night and now, suddenly, you want to treat me like I matter? Fuck off with that.¡±

    ¡°Had you stayed outside of the city, as instructed, none of this would have happened.¡±

    ¡°Should have thought of that before you kidnapped me.¡±

    ¡°How many times must we rehash this same argument? You are here because we made a deal.¡±

    ¡°You know what wasn¡¯t a part of that deal? Being cursed with dark magic! How the fuck am I supposed to learn to use my power if every time I do, that thing wakes up inside of me, huh? You¡¯re asking me to do the impossible here!¡±

    ¡°Did I curse you with dark magic?¡± Whisper, sensibly, did not wait for an answer as they seemed to sense Rasp had no intention of giving one. ¡°And I am here attempting to find you a cure, am I not? Which, by the way, would be far more successful if you stopped trying to pick a fight with every living creature that crosses your path, including me.¡±

    Why not? It sounded like a great idea. A brilliant idea. Possibly the best idea he¡¯d had all day. ¡°Finding a cure? Is that what you call this? Pointlessly running from one city to the next, getting hounded everywhere we go?¡±

    ¡°As much as I would love to have this conversation with you, now is not the time.¡±

    Still working the last of the trembles from his arms, Rasp glanced around him, realizing he could sense a growing magical signature from where the energy caster had fallen. ¡°How the fuck is he still alive? Do yourself a favor,¡± he shouted to the stubborn energy caster, ¡°and quit while you¡¯re still breathing. I am seriously not in the mood!¡±

    His opponent¡¯s response came in the form of a channel of crackling light. Rasp threw himself to the side, feeling the burn of the hot blaze as the energy blast narrowly missed, singeing some of the hair from his arm.

    Whisper must have done the same because when they spoke, they sounded notably farther away than they had been previously. ¡°His energy is dwindling, but I am afraid without your magic, we may have to find a creative way to get around him.¡±

    ¡°I know just the thing.¡± The realization that he had nearly lost control over something so trivial had his blood pumping hot again. If he couldn¡¯t handle this with his magic, then that left only one other option. ¡°Can you distract him long enough for me to get close?¡±

    ¡°Little bird, whatever you are considering doing, I would not recommend¨C¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m long past the considering part!¡± Rasp sprang to his feet and sought the wall, brushing his fingers against the damaged stone as he tripped and stumbled his way along at a clumsy run.

    A flash of blue lit the alleyway before him. The energy caster took Whisper¡¯s bait and slung another energy blast in their direction. Green flared against blue and, for the briefest of moments, the conflicting colors lit the passage as bright as day. Rasp was only steps from his quarry before the witch realized their game. The caster turned, hands glowing with energy, but it was already too late.

    Rasp¡¯s foot planted in the witch¡¯s gut, sending them sprawling across the debris littered ground. He launched himself onto them, fists swinging as he landed blow after blow. With the last of their strength, the witch lifted his hand and a surge of magic struck Rasp directly in the face.

    It hit like a kick in the teeth. The concentration of the force was so strong it sent him careening. Daggers of red hot pain radiated through his jaw and up his forehead. Rasp cursed as he held a hand to his mouth, realizing his fingers came away wet. The taste of iron pooled across his tongue and bubbled over his lower lip, spilling down his open mouth. Amidst the agony, he realized he could feel something hard rolling around in his mouth.

    Rasp spat into his hand, realizing it was a tooth. His own. An exploratory search of his mouth confirmed that several others had been knocked free from the blast as well.

    ¡°I gonna fucking kill him!¡±

    ¡°No need, little bird.¡± Whisper¡¯s voice came from near the energy caster. ¡°That was the last of his energy. He has already succumbed to his injuries.¡±

    Rasp considered personally ensuring that the damned witch wouldn¡¯t come back a third time, but he didn¡¯t think he had the strength. Besides, he needed to find the rest of his teeth. Bent over the ground with hot blood spilling from his mouth, frantically searching the broken cobblestone for his broken teeth, a familiar sound stopped him dead in his search. Rasp¡¯s heart skipped a beat as the hard clack of hoofs against cobbled stone drew nearer.

    It couldn¡¯t be, could it? No, he was dreaming, surely. Forget dreaming, it was probably a hallucination brought on by the extensive blood loss. Despite the slew of rapid-fire excuses rattling around his muddled brain, the footsteps kept coming. Fuck reason, it was happening. It was finally happening! His best friend in the entire world had tracked him down and found him.

    Rasp rose shakily to his feet. ¡°Faris?¡±

    It was a raven that answered him. Croak!

    With his head spinning, Rasp didn¡¯t register Father¡¯s words. ¡°You did this, dad? You found Faris?¡±

    There was so much he wanted to say and do. He didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or cry. This was the happiest he¡¯d been in months. Rasp staggered towards the approaching faun, arms flung wide. He managed only one step before his body gave out. His legs crumpled as he sagged towards the blood covered ground. A strong pair of hands grabbed him, preventing him from hitting the upturned cobblestone street and losing any more teeth.

    ¡°Rasp?¡± Faris¡¯s voice sounded strangely far away. And not much like Faris either, to be honest. But that didn¡¯t matter. Faris gave him a gentle shake. ¡°Good gods, why does it look like someone kicked you in the face?¡±

    Rasp slumped against him, eyes fluttering shut. ¡°Everything¡¯s alright now that you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Sure, buddy. Whatever you say. It looks like you¡¯ve lost a lot of blood. I¡¯m going to get you out of here, alright? Please refrain from biting me.¡±

    Rasp wanted to protest that he could never do such a thing to Faris. Before, maybe, sure. But not now after having been reunited at long last. Words were getting increasingly harder to form, however. Despite his best efforts, the only thing he could manage to get out was a gargled, ¡°...¡¯Kay.¡±

    He was only vaguely aware that he was picked up and slung onto Faris¡¯s shoulder. Rasp didn¡¯t remember Faris being this tall. Or strong enough to lift him on his own either. But those were trivial details. His best friend was back and that was all that mattered. The rest of the journey passed by in a confusing blur as more and more blood steadily trickled from his splintered mouth.

 132 - Unhinged

    Daana¡¯s scream bounced from one stone wall to the next, filling the cramped cell with what sounded like multiple shrieking banshees.

    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m so sorry, miss.¡± The sweet voice did not match the towering frame of its owner. The prisoner pulled Daana against her chest and roughly stroked the top of her hair in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. With her face smashed against the rough fabric of a musty smelling shift, Daana found the gesture neither comforting nor comfortable. The sudden squeezing did manage to smother her panicked screams, though.

    ¡°There, there. You¡¯re alright,¡± the rumbling voice crooned. ¡°I mistook you for one of the new inmates. They give me extra yard time if I scare the piss out of them on the first day. Keeps things quiet around here.¡±

    Through her tears and the ragged, raspy pants for air that plagued her lungs, Daana forced herself to look up. As her teary vision adjusted to the surrounding gloom, the pained face of an orc shifted into clarity. The shape and color of her eyes, the blunt nose, all the way down to the strong cut of her jaw, were all eerily familiar. Oralia, basically¨Cbut with different scars, a few faded tattoos peeking out from under the shift along her collarbone, and a very eye-catching septum ring.

    Daana¡¯s voice was barely a squeak. ¡°Ashwyn?¡±

    ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Ashwyn, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Nobody here by that name, miss.¡± The orc released her from her crushing embrace and took a step backwards. The space between them was not nearly far enough for Daana¡¯s comfort.

    Daana took in a giant gasp of air, allowing her lungs to fully inflate for what felt like the first time in many hours. Although she was relieved to no longer have the damned hood over her face, her current surroundings weren¡¯t much of an improvement. The cell was small and windowless, with the only source of semi-fresh air coming from the barred door. In the corner, she saw a stiff cot bolted to the wall with neatly arranged bedding. There was a small stone ledge protruded from the side wall beside it, pulling double duty as both a shelf and desk. The orc¡¯s meager belongings appeared to include a hair brush, several books, and stacks of carefully arranged parchment.

    With her visual sweep of the room complete, and the regular in-out-in-out rhythm of her breath restored, Daana summoned the courage to speak. ¡°I know who you are. I¡¯m friends with your sister, Oralia.¡± The fact that Oralia tolerated her didn¡¯t actually make them friends, but Daana couldn¡¯t think of a word that accurately described their acquaintanceship whilst simultaneously conveying trust. ¡°You look just like her.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you sweet thing. I squeezed you too hard, didn¡¯t I? I think it might have popped something in your head.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Daana,¡± she tried again, hoping against all odds that a familiar name would lower Ashwyn¡¯s guard. ¡°I¡¯m told you knew my mother, Larkspur.¡±

    The silence that followed was neither cold nor hostile, but strangely warm. In any other circumstance, Daana might have shied away from the unfamiliar orc that drew closer, but she didn¡¯t. She remained rooted to the ground as Ashwyn reached for her. There was something about the orc¡¯s soft movements that conveyed no harm was intended. ¡°My goddess, as I live and breathe.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s flint-colored eyes grew wide as she gently cupped Daana¡¯s chin in her calloused palms. ¡°Yes, of course. How could I have missed it before? You¡¯re the spitting image of her.¡±

    An unexpected whimper bubbled up from Daana¡¯s throat. ¡°Really?¡±

    The warmth vanished and Ashwyn rolled her head back, laughing. The harsh cackle filled the cramped chamber, echoing against the ancient stone until it sounded as if the building itself was mocking her. What started as a gentle touch turned into an iron grip, preventing Daana from pulling away. Ashwyn¡¯s glistening eyes narrowed. ¡°Does he really think I¡¯m this stupid? What was the plan here? Get on my good side? Convince me to tell you all about the great Larkspur Denari? The poor lass is dead. Let her stay that way.¡±

    Daana stood stock still, paralyzed by terror. ¡°Let go. You¡¯re hurting me.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s thick lips pursed as she twisted Daana¡¯s head this way and that, studying her features. ¡°Geralt did his homework. I¡¯ll give the little runt that. To say there isn¡¯t some resemblance would be a lie. Tell me, how much did he pay to put you up to this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a trick!¡± Daana attempted to slap Ashwyn¡¯s hands away without success. She realized only after having done so that it was a poor decision. Not only was she still stuck in Ashwyn¡¯s iron grasp, but she was utterly defenseless in the event the much stronger orc decided to retaliate.

    Ashwyn released her with a chuckle as she started towards the other side of the cramped cell. ¡°Well you certainly have her temper, at least. A pity about the brains.¡±

    Daana dropped her voice and glanced in the direction of the door. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t have time for this. Is the guard still nearby?¡±

    ¡°Who? You mean Pauly? Nah, he¡¯s probably back at the guard shack by now. He and Winston like to play a few rounds before the evening cell count.¡± Ashwyn pulled the solitary chair from beneath the ledge and twisted it around. She sat backwards, utilizing the stiff backing as a convenient place in which to rest her brawny arms. While smaller in stature than her sister, she was equally as imposing. Ashwyn looked as if someone had smuggled a statue of the orc goddess of war from the temple and slapped a loose tangle of hair and an ill-fitting garment over the top in the hopes that no one would notice. She had lean, sinewy muscles that looked so sharply defined, they may have well been cut from stone.

    There wasn¡¯t time to consider what pain those muscles were capable of inflicting. With one shaky hand reaching for her collar, Daana asked, ¡°Would you mind turning around for just a moment?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s single, raised eyebrow communicated that she minded very much so.

    Looks like I¡¯ll be doing this with an audience then. Great¡­

    Biting her lower lip, Daana unbuttoned the upper portion of her dress and shimmied it down her shoulders. She reached both hands behind her back and worked the hooks from her girdle free. While the palace guards had removed her weapons, including the knife strapped to her ankle, they hadn¡¯t bothered to give her a change of clothes. She and Snag had stayed up all night stitching the iron tools into the support strips of her undergarments by candlelight.

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    ¡°Oh, goddess.¡± Ashwyn grimaced, tilting her chin towards the low ceiling with a groan. ¡°Before you pop those knickers off too, just know, I find the seduction angle rather insulting. Just because I¡¯m partial to a nice pair of tits doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to fall for every elf he throws in here.¡±

    With the girdle unlatched, Daana whipped it free, grateful for the sudden ability to breathe unhindered once more. She hastily rebuttoned everything back into place, scrunching her eyebrows together as she did so. ¡°Made an exception for your wife then? Ellisar will be the first to tell you she¡¯s as flat as a washboard.¡±

    ¡°Back to name dropping, are we? Not very original if you ask me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to be original. And, for the record, I¡¯m not trying to seduce you, either.¡± Daana laid out the individual pieces of her pick set by the door, attempting to recall the parts of her training that did not involve name-calling. She selected two tools and threaded her arms through the bars, working the pieces into the lock.

    ¡°What in the chaos are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Breaking you out,¡± Daana grunted. Picking locks, it turned out, was much easier when one could see what they were doing. With her face pressed against the rough metal bars, Daana was forced to arrange her tools by feel. It was going about as well as expected.

    ¡°Breaking me out? Really?¡± Ashwyn rested her chin against her arms. ¡°And when will that be? Next year, perhaps? You¡¯ve got that pick in upside down, Peaches.¡±

    With a groan, Daana peeled herself away from the bars and extended the implements in Ashwyn¡¯s direction. ¡°In all fairness, your wife was a horrible instructor. She spent most of the lesson belittling my efforts.¡±

    ¡°Well that does sound like her, but who wouldn¡¯t after watching that performance?¡±

    Daana winced. Ellisar warned that if all else failed, Daana would have to use the code. She would have utilized it from the start had not Ellisar also warned that Ashwyn¡¯s reaction would go one of two ways. Either Ashwyn would accept that her deeply untrusting wife had trusted someone enough to give them the code, or that it had been forced out of Ellisar through torture. The first option would end well. The second would just end. For Daana, anyway.

    Snapping her eyes shut, Daana raised her voice, attempting to keep her tone from fluttering the same way her insides were. ¡°Use that tone with me again, miss, and I¡¯m afraid I will have to get very cross with you!¡±

    With her eyes screwed shut, Daana heard the chair legs squeak as Ashwyn moved to her feet. The cautious steps started slowly in her direction. Ashwyn¡¯s voice was low and venomous. ¡°What did you just say?¡±

    Daana forced her fear back down with a difficult swallow. ¡°You heard me.¡±

    For a few torturous seconds nothing happened. When Daana opened her eyes again, she found Ashwyn crouched in front of her. The orc¡¯s dark eyes bored into Daana like twin, black holes. Ashwyn leaned closer, whispering, ¡°Got anything else to add to that, miss? Or are you satisfied with those being your last words?¡±

    Daana scrambled so far backwards her shoulders struck the door. ¡°No, I¡¯m with her! I swea¨C¡±

    ¡°Ha, kidding!¡± With a lighthearted punch to Daana¡¯s arm¨Cwhich felt more hearted than it did light¨CAshwyn took the lock kit from Daana¡¯s trembling hands. A pearly smile split between her lips. ¡°Sorry, Peaches. I couldn¡¯t help myself.¡±

    Daana nearly melted onto the floor. The anger that bloomed across her face in hot patches was quelled somewhat by the small pinprick of relief that came with knowing she wasn¡¯t about to die. Not relieved enough to keep silent, though. ¡°Ugh, you are the worst! Honestly, I should have expected this. There¡¯s no way in the seven realms of chaos that a sane person would have entered a committed relationship with Ellisar willingly!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it. Let all that anger out. Expressing yourself is supposed to be very beneficial for mental health, you know.¡±

    Emotional whiplash was nothing new to Daana. It was par for the course when you traveled months on end with the dregs of society. And yet, this version felt unfamiliar to her. Usually it was one person causing the pain, while another smoothed it over. Ashwyn was somehow filling both roles simultaneously.

    ¡°You just keep venting away while I take care of this pesky lock here. Ha, look at us! Practically a team already.¡± Ashwyn took the hook pick in one hand and worked it through the bars. Once the pick was slid into the lock, she wriggled the next implement in place beside it. While the lock picking itself appeared to be going rather smoothly, Ashwyn was clearly having difficulty navigating her muscular arms through the narrow gaps between the bars.

    Her cheery voice strained with effort. ¡°Is Ellie here, by chance? Call me old fashioned, but I always pictured her kicking down the door and sweeping me off my feet. It¡¯s not nearly as romantic doing all the heavy lifting myself.¡±

    ¡°Nearby,¡± Daana said, deciding against pointing out the very obvious flaw in that fantasy. ¡°The plan was for me to get thrown into the dungeon with you and for them to follow.¡± That was the problem with secret dungeons. It was common practice not to advertise their location to the general public. There was also the issue that the heads of the realm kept multiple dungeons at any given time. Although Ellisar knew a few of the most common locations, it would have been tedious to check all of them without getting caught along the way.

    ¡°Them? Who¡¯s them?¡± Ashwyn glanced at Daana out of the corner of her eye. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me Ra Ra is here, too?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who that is.¡±

    ¡°O-ra-li-a.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s teasing smile grew bigger as she returned her full concentration to her work. ¡°You should try calling her that sometime. She loves it.¡±

    Daana peered hard at her. ¡°Are you sure you two are related? She¡¯s, well, you know¡­and you¡¯re¡­¡±

    ¡°Fun?¡± Ashwyn ventured.

    ¡°Different,¡± was the word Daana settled on. Calling the orc unhinged seemed not only impolite, but rather stupid too. Especially with the door still securely locked.

    During Daana¡¯s practice session, it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to pop a single lock. It had been a simple one too. According to Ellisar, anyway. Ashwyn seemed more versed in the art of breaking and entering. After several minutes of jamming, twisting, and rearranging the slender metal pieces into the keyhole, the heavy iron mechanism within the door gave away with a rusty click-clunk-clank.

    ¡°Alright, Peaches. Ready to go?¡± Ashwyn rolled the implements back into the grease stained cloth and offered it to Daana. ¡°You don¡¯t by chance have any weapons stashed in that girdle of yours too, do you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Peaches? Where had that come from? It wasn¡¯t the best nickname, but she supposed it was better than princess.

    Oh.

    The thought summoned an unexpected hurt. Pain splintered like icy tendrils from the center of her chest and spread to her lungs. Daana closed her eyes, trying to quell the hot tears that pooled in the corner of her eyes. It had been four months since Curly¡¯s death. As much as she tried not to think about it, the memories had a unique way of worming back into her brain when she was least expecting them.

    ¡°You alright?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s voice snapped her eyes back open. Daana blinked away the tears and nodded. ¡°Yeah, peachy.¡±

    Shit. Now the nickname was definitely going to stick.

    ¡°Right, we¡¯ll make do with what we got then.¡± Ashwyn moved swiftly across the room and hobbled her chair by snapping three of the wooden legs free. She passed one to Daana and kept the other two for herself. ¡°Stay behind me. If we come across any unfriendlies, let me do the talking, alright?¡±

 133 - A Romantic Reencounter

    Ashwyn put her shoulder to the barred door and slowly eased it open as quietly as possible. Tilting her head for Daana to follow, the orc slid soundlessly out into the empty hallway. Daana tiptoed close behind, attempting to mimic Ashwyn¡¯s confident movements. Truth be told, having Ashwyn assume the lead was something of a relief, actually. Daana knew they were supposed to be traveling downwards, utilizing the same staircase that brought her to this floor, probably. The problem was she didn¡¯t know where to find it.

    Ashwyn padded on ahead with the confidence of someone who had either done this hundreds or times before, or was simply very, very good at faking it. Several empty lantern hooks hung above the dark passageway as they passed row after row of empty cells. They were nearing the bend that Daana suspected housed the stairwell when Ashwyn held out her palm and pressed flat against the wall.

    Daana sucked in her breath and held it, pressing her shoulders against the stone passageway. Either her heart had ceased its rampant pounding or her ears had learned to tune it out, because it wasn¡¯t long before she heard the sounds of slapping feet moving swiftly up the stairwell towards them. The footsteps stopped just shy of the entrance.

    After a moment of unease, a familiar voice rang out from around the corner. ¡°Daana, if that¡¯s you, you¡¯d better say something else I¡¯m gonna clear that hallway with a powder charge!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s me, Snag!¡± She pushed free of the wall and moved to the front, waving her arms. ¡°I¡¯ve got Ashwyn with me.¡±

    The footsteps started up again, faster than before. Snag¡¯s voice called out ahead of them, ¡°In that case, I suggest you move before you get trampled.¡±

    A willowy shadow burst from the dim stairwell and doubled its speed in their direction. Taking Snag¡¯s advice, Daana threw herself flat against the wall and out of Ellisar¡¯s path. The elf leapt the remaining distance, sailed through the air, and landed like a fully sprung net trap. Her arms and legs latched around Ashwyn¡¯s body, knocking the orc a step backwards. Realizing it was not a matter of what, but who had hit her, Ashwyn dropped her chair legs and pulled her wife in for an uncomfortably passionate kiss.

    It might have been romantic had Ashwyn not pulled away seconds later, sputtering, ¡°Your breath! Dear goddess, Ellie. Why does it taste like you ate a raw onion for lunch?¡±

    ¡°An onion and a bulb of garlic.¡± A devious smile cut across Ellisar¡¯s normally expressionless features. It was somehow more unnerving than her glare. ¡°Word of advice, don¡¯t bet against Snag when you¡¯ve run out of money. He gets rather creative.¡±

    ¡°You could have at least brought a mint. Brushed your teeth beforehand, maybe?¡±

    Ellisar snaked her arms behind Ashwyn¡¯s head and pulled her closer. ¡°Less talking. More tongue.¡±

    Daana averted her eyes, watching as Snag¡¯s scraggly shape moved towards them at an unhurried pace. It was probably intentional with the way the two women were going at it next to her. Snag¡¯s left leg still dragged a little, but if it bothered him, he never mentioned it. ¡°Oi!¡± he hissed. ¡°Can you two keep it in your pants until we¡¯re free of the creepy crawly dungeon?¡±

    Fighting the elf¡¯s pawing hands, Ashwyn dropped Ellisar back onto the ground and proffered a winning smile. ¡°You must be Snag.¡±

    ¡°And you must be the sane half to¡± ¨C his clawed fingers gestured vaguely in Ellisar¡¯s direction ¨C ¡°this.¡±

    Ha! As much as Daana wanted to correct him, she decided it would be best to let Snag draw his own conclusions on the matter.

    ¡°I know we haven¡¯t officially met, but I feel like we¡¯re family already. Ellie writes all about you in her letters.¡± Ashwyn must have noticed the repulsion that crossed his grizzled face because she lifted her palms into the air with a laugh. ¡°The clean parts, I mean.¡±

    Snag¡¯s glistening eyes shifted from Ashwyn to Ellisar as a needled smile formed across his face. ¡°That¡¯s not very fair. The dirty parts are the only bits I get to hear. I think that entitles me to some embarrassing stories. Tonight, preferably. When we¡¯re miles and miles from this wretched place.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a date.¡±

    Ellisar followed Snag towards the stairwell. She twisted around, shooting her wife a silencing glare whilst mouthing ¡®over my dead body¡¯.

    They descended the spiraling staircase with Ellisar leading, Snag and Daana in the middle, and Ashwyn bringing up the rear. The trek was carried out in silence. Ellisar was slinking down the last few steps when a bolt struck the wall behind her and ricocheted across the room.

    ¡°Shit!¡± She retreated several steps behind the protective curve of the wall. ¡°Snag, I thought you said you got all of them!¡±

    ¡°No, I said I got all the ones at the front,¡± Snag hissed back. ¡°You were supposed to sweep the corridors!¡±

    ¡°Drop your weapons!¡± a shaky voice called from beyond the stairwell. ¡°That¡¯s the only way out. Try to run and I¡¯ll pick the lot of you off.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Ellisar looked over her shoulder at Daana. ¡°Sounds like it¡¯s time to deploy our fire starter.¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to get us all killed?¡± Snag snapped at her. ¡°No! We agreed never again. Using Daana is not an option.¡±

    ¡°When did you become an old stick-in-the-mud, Snag? You used to be fun.¡±

    ¡°You want a repeat of Alkurth? Because this is how you get a repeat of Alkurth!¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s tall form leaned over Daana¡¯s shoulder, whispering, ¡°I think I may have underestimated you, Peaches. You got some sort of specialty I¡¯m not aware of?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, not really,¡± Daana stammered. A flashback overcame her and, for a moment, Daana recalled the smell of smoke as red and orange embers danced on the wind, illuminating the night sky above as the city burned below. She blinked the image from her eyes, forcing the memory back into the dark, unvisited recesses of her mind. ¡°It was an accident, actually. They aren¡¯t ever going to let me live it down, I don¡¯t think.¡±

    Daana returned to Snag and Ellisar¡¯s conversation in time to hear the tailend of Snag¡¯s plan. ¡°That bolt came from a crossbow. Which means the fucker¡¯s got to waste time to reload. You throw a little distraction his way and I¡¯ll clear the room with a charge, yeah?¡±

    The edges of Ellisar¡¯s mouth turned downwards. ¡°You¡¯re already leading in points. If I¡¯m the bait, then you get the kill.¡±

    ¡°Should have swept the corridors then, hmm?¡±

    ¡°Hold on you two.¡± Ashwyn squeezed past Daana, placing her hand on Ellisar¡¯s shoulder as she navigated the cramped stairwell. ¡°Stay here. Let me take care of this.¡±

    ¡°Armed with what, exactly?¡± Snag said.

    ¡°Admittedly, it¡¯s been awhile since I¡¯ve done this. Might be a little rusty.¡± Ashwyn spoke as though she hadn¡¯t heard Snag¡¯s question. She looked to Ellisar, who merely imparted an impassive shrug. With her spouse¡¯s seal of approval, Ashwyn whispered to Snag, ¡°How many did you take care of at the guard shack when you came in?¡±

    ¡°Three.¡± He glanced worriedly between them. ¡°Am I missing something? What is the plan here? You can¡¯t just stroll down there and¨C¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Snag,¡± Ellisar replied. ¡°Let her do her thing.¡±

    ¡°Oh, good. She¡¯s as mad as you are. Glad we established that early on. I will adjust my expectations for survival accordingly.¡±

    Ruffling Ellisar¡¯s hair as she slipped past, Ashwyn started down the stairs with her shoulders pressed to the stone. Her voice reverberated off of the grime covered walls below. ¡°Winston, love, I know it¡¯s only you down there. You can talk a big game all you want, but no one rang the alarm. The next shift isn¡¯t due to come in for another three hours. Help isn¡¯t coming, mate. But that doesn¡¯t mean this has to end in blood. You¡¯ve always treated me fair and I¡¯d like to return the favor.¡±

    She was near the bottom step now, still pressed flat to the wall. ¡°You¡¯ve got three babies at home and a fourth on the way. I¡¯m not intending to rob those rascals of their father, but you¡¯re going to have to work with me here. First things first, I need you to understand these people don¡¯t mess around. You fire off another bolt and I won¡¯t be able to talk them out of making your wife a widow.¡±

    ¡°I c-can¡¯t let you leave. If they find everyone else dead and not me, they¡¯ll¨C¡±

    ¡°Which is why I¡¯m going to knock you unconscious.¡± With her palms raised, Ashwyn stepped free of the protection of the stairwell. ¡°You remember when Big Brutis took a swipe at you in the yard? Who was it who dropped him with a nerve pinch? And he came back around with all his faculties, didn¡¯t he? It¡¯ll be just like that. Except that when you¡¯re out, I¡¯m going to break your arm to make it more believable.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Ashwyn didn¡¯t flinch at his response. She edged further into the room until she had disappeared from the entrance of the stairwell altogether. ¡°I¡¯ll do it clean, I promise. I¡¯ve got a healer with me back on the stairs. He¡¯ll give you something so you won¡¯t wake up in agony, alright? At the end of all this, you still get to go home to a wife and the little ones and the boss is going to be none the wiser. You¡¯re just the lucky sap who got a bump on the head during a jailbreak and lived to tell about it.¡±

    Daana strained to catch the soft words of the guard, but was unable to make sense of his reply. Her gaze flickered to Ellisar, whispering, ¡°She can¡¯t be serious. For the gods¡¯ sakes, she¡¯s not even armed!¡±

    ¡°Enchanting, isn¡¯t it?¡± A second smile split across Ellisar¡¯s stoic face. There was a dreamy, far-off look in her eyes that made Daana want to shy away in terror. ¡°This one time we got held up on the road by bandits. We were outnumbered four to one and they were looking for an excuse to draw blood. By the time Ashwyn was done with them, the whole gang was ugly crying as they took turns writing letters to their mothers apologizing for the way they turned out.¡±

    After a moment of quiet deliberation, Daana turned away, shaking her head in disbelief. ¡°I can never tell when you¡¯re fucking with me.¡±

    Before Ellisar could reply, Ashwyn¡¯s voice called from further away. ¡°He¡¯s down!¡±

    With her eyes as wide as saucers, Daana skirted down the remaining steps behind the other two. True to her word, Ashwyn stood with her hands locked on her hips, peering down at a still guard. ¡°Snag, I might need your opinion here. Where¡¯s the best place to snap someone¡¯s arm so it¡¯ll heal straight?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­not just going to kill him?¡± the goblin ventured, sidling closer as he wrung his clawed hands together.

    ¡°I meant what I said. It¡¯s the only way the whole convincing thing works.¡±

    ¡°Is it a form of magic?¡± Daana asked. She hadn¡¯t sensed any, but she hadn¡¯t exactly been looking for it, either.

    ¡°Nothing like that, no.¡± Ashwyn dismissed the idea with a wave of her broad hand. ¡°In the end, all most people want is to make it through one more day. I¡¯m just giving them the option, is all. It¡¯s how I won Ellie over.¡±

    ¡°You drugged and abducted me!¡±

    ¡°Arrested you,¡± Ashwyn corrected with a pearly smile. ¡°I still get the flutters thinking of you hogtied and thrown over the back of my horse.¡±

    A sudden sense of awe filled Daana. What she had originally mistook as yet another violent lunatic was shaping into something else entirely. Nothing about her new life came easily, but the realization that she could learn to navigate the path ahead of her without having to needlessly end lives was an opportunity too good to pass. ¡°Can you teach me?¡±

    ¡°Oh, Sweet Peaches, there¡¯s nothing to it.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°You just ensure their hands and feet are tied real tight first. The horse does most of the work, honestly.¡±

 134 - Seven Pages Of Unadulterated Smut (not really)

    Fairguard was New Adderwood Republic¡¯s southernmost settlement. It was a small, fully enclosed outpost, whose sole reason for existence, until recently, was the Copperstone Inn. Once the pinnacle of stately travel destinations, the inn¡¯s high-end clientele had ranged from the top ranking members of court, to wealthy merchants, and anyone with a ludicrous amount of coin to spare. But, like the brightest burning stars, the momentum eventually fizzled out. New, faster coach roads gradually siphoned away the better paying crowds. After changing ownership more times than anyone cared to remember, the inn eventually became a haven for weary travelers looking for a cheap bed and a quiet place to drink.

    Without steady income from travelers, the settlement fell into disarray. War changed that. The heads of the newly formed New Adderwood Republic seized Fairguard and resurrected it to its former glory, utilizing the Copperstone Inn as its temporary headquarters.

    The reception area of the inn was pleasantly empty when Oralia entered. The usual mix of officers and civilian volunteers had left to greet the returning party at the front gates, no doubt. Oralia and her small personal company rode hard to arrive ahead of the main force. A small sum paid to the guards at the west gate ensured that her arrival would go unmarked for at least a little while. It wasn¡¯t so much that she minded the cheering crowds, it was the expectation for her to drop everything for an emergency debriefing immediately after that bothered her. She had needs, after all. Attending another tedious meeting smelling fresher than a horse ranked high on the list¨Camongst other things.

    Instead of taking the stairs, Oralia strode across the frayed olive carpet to the front service desk. She slapped a piece of silver onto the counter as she passed. ¡°You saw nothing. I have not yet arrived.¡±

    The unenthusiastic attendant was perched on his stool with his long nose stuck in a book. He was an elf of indeterminate age, with greasy, slicked-back hair and multiple piercings threaded through his ears and nostrils. While his attempt to encapsulate the nonconformist vibe was commendable, he would have looked rather ordinary next to her goblin soldier, Snaglebrag.

    The real one. Not the stand-in.

    The elf merely licked his fingertip and turned the page. ¡°That¡¯ll be two, please.¡±

    ¡°Two?¡±

    ¡°My fees have doubled in your absence.¡±

    ¡°On what grounds?¡±

    ¡°Command is growing concerned with the rate in which I don¡¯t see you. They¡¯ve scheduled an eye exam.¡±

    With a click of her tusks, Oralia dug into her pocket and retrieved a second silver coin. Despite the urge to slam it with all of her might, she deposited it delicately onto the desk as though it was made of glass.

    The attendant drew back the faded red curtain that obstructed the small doorway behind him, managing to do so without lifting his gaze from the page. ¡°Blast. Once more, your highly anticipated arrival has slipped my notice, madam. My superiors will be most displeased.¡±

    ¡°Many thanks, Archibald.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got two hours before my vision miraculously recovers.¡±

    Oralia traveled the dim staff corridor several twists and turns until it deposited her into the kitchen. The hazy air was balmy and so heavy with the scent of stewed cabbage, it nearly took her out at the knees. Ignoring the sudden lurch in her stomach, Oralia braced herself against the doorframe as she peered inside, searching for a familiar shape.

    ¡°It¡¯s about damn time!¡± A plump, frizzy-haired human woman was leading the fight against that morning¡¯s dishes near the sink well. She waved her scouring brush as if it were a sword in Oralia¡¯s direction. ¡°If you had delayed your return any longer, I would have had to put the poor wretch out of his misery myself. He nearly took off his thumb dicing the last of the onions this morning. And when I finally got him calmed down enough to stop shaking, he nearly did it again!¡±

    A pitiful twinge dropped in her chest. The long hours and treacherous excursions had taken their toll on everyone, including those left behind. It normally took a few days of being back before Sascha¡¯s nerves straightened themselves out again. ¡°Thank you for looking out for him, Nuri. Do you know where I might find him? I assumed he would be here.¡±

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    Nuri gestured over her shoulder with the soapy brush. ¡°Out back taking a smoke break.¡±

    Oralia started across the worn kitchen tile towards the delivery entrance. ¡°Sascha does not smoke.¡±

    ¡°Well he does when you¡¯re away! It¡¯s his third one today.¡±

    Oralia swung open the rickety wood thatch door and stepped out into the uneven cobblestone courtyard that butted up to the back of the inn. Her lover¡¯s hulking frame stopped pacing when the door swung shut with a clatter. He swiveled his head in her direction and the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth softened. Oralia started to move in his direction, but there was no need. Grinding the cigarette stub under his heel, Sascha was across the uneven ground in three swift strides and pulling her into his arms.

    The smell of tobacco smoke hung heavy on his clothes. It didn¡¯t churn her stomach like the cabbage. It had the opposite reaction, in fact, and Oralia found herself craving more. Aside from the few times Ellisar had coaxed her into smoking with her¨Ca substance which was most definitely not tobacco¨COralia had never saw the appeal. Gods, every day it felt like more and more of her old self was slipping.

    She pressed into him, listening to the rampant drum of his heartbeat. ¡°I came back in one piece, just like I promised.¡±

    ¡°Gods, I swore I wouldn¡¯t cry.¡± Sascha¡¯s deep voice cracked and he rested his chin against the top of her head as fat, salty tears rolled down his face and wetted her hair. ¡°I heard about the ambush and the fighting and I was so worried. If anything happened to you, I¡¯d¨C¡±

    Oralia tilted her head so she could look up to him. Tears traveled along the deep worry lines etched across Sascha¡¯s face like the marred channels of a weathered ravine. The wrinkles used to disappear by the day¡¯s end, but as of late, they seemed to have taken up permanent residence. ¡°I know you do not like it when I am delayed,¡± Oralia said, brushing a stray tear from his cheek with her thumb. ¡°But I did send a letter.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± His tusks clicked against his upper teeth as some of the softness fled from his face. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to have a frank talk about that letter.¡±

    A prickle shot up her spine and she stood straighter. ¡°It was supposed to ease your fretting.¡±

    ¡°It said ¡®Ran into trouble. Don¡¯t worry. She¡¯s going to be fine. Back home later than expected¡¯. I don¡¯t know who dictates your messages, but could you tell them to be a little more specific next time? I didn¡¯t sleep the last three nights because I kept wondering what it was I wasn¡¯t supposed to be worrying about!¡±

    ¡°You did not like it any better when I left Rali in charge of relaying the messages.¡±

    ¡°She was sending thinly veiled ransom notes!¡±

    ¡°To be fair, a case of garlic pickles and two bottles of rum was a very affordable ransom. And you paid so quickly, too.¡± A smile tugged at her mouth as Oralia rose onto her toes and kissed him. ¡°For which I am forever grateful. I missed you.¡± The familiar scents of fresh mint and cloves engulfed her as her lips pressed against his. She tasted the smokey hint of tobacco and leaned into him harder, wanting more.

    Sascha¡¯s mouth was tight-lipped and unyielding. Although he still held her, his hands were locked tight, refusing to explore her body with their usual inquisitive touch. From his frigid demeanor, she suspected he was attempting to hold strong against her affection to prove a point. It probably wasn¡¯t meant as a challenge, but Oralia accepted it as one anyway. She pulled his head closer, nipped his earlobe between her teeth, and growled.

    ¡°That¡¯s not going to work, Moonflower,¡± he said. ¡°Not this time.¡±

    Her other hand, having threaded past the front of his apron and steadily working away at the clasp of his belt, hesitated. ¡°Are you telling me to stop? Or was that an invitation to change your mind? I want to be one hundred percent certain before I rip your trousers down the front.¡±

    An unexpected blush swept across his nose and cheeks. Snapping his teeth, Sascha groaned, ¡°By the gods, woman. For days on end, you cause me nothing but anguish. And then the moment you return, after I¡¯ve rearranged the same lecture in my head for the past week, getting every point perfect, you say something like that and I suddenly can¡¯t recall a damn word of it!¡±

    ¡°A lecture? For me?¡± Her hand released his belt and went to her hip instead. ¡°All of this because a letter was too vague for your liking? I have had the misfortune of hearing the love notes Ellisar writes to Ashwyn. And not by choice, either. She once insisted on reading one aloud to get my thoughts. It was seven pages of unadulterated smut. Is that what you would prefer? An overly detailed breakdown of every filthy act I intend to do to you upon my return?¡±

    For a moment, he only stared. And then, at last, a sinister smile split across his tusked face. ¡°Forget the lecture. That sounds like a far better solution. I¡¯m so glad we were able to see eye to eye on this, Moonflower.¡±

    Oh dear gods. What Oralia had thought would be a threat was suddenly becoming far more work than she intended to take on. ¡°...I do not think I have the imagination to fill seven pages. How do you feel about a well structured paragraph? I could include bullet points, if necessary.¡±

    With a laugh, Sascha nuzzled his face into her, planting soft kisses along her neck as his strong hands worked down the small of her back. ¡°Seven pages, no less. But I could give you a little inspiration, if you think it would help.¡±

 135 - Bird Business

    In retrospect, Oralia should have seized Sascha by the hand and whisked him away to somewhere more private the moment she laid eyes on him. There was always someone looking for her these days and no amount of bribery kept her pursuers away for long. Alas, her hesitation cost her. The rear kitchen door opened and shut with a clatter behind them.

    Still held in Sascha¡¯s arms, Oralia refused to turn and face the interloper, hopeful perhaps that they would realize their error and quietly slink away. She held her breath and listened as a set of confident footsteps skirted down the stone steps and approached absolutely undeterred.

    ¡°Ha! Knew I¡¯d find you out here.¡±

    She flinched at the nasally voice. ¡°Lingon?¡±

    The harsh clack of boot heels against cobblestone stopped just shy of her. Lingon¡¯s reply dripped with sticky-sweet insincerity. ¡°Yes, Moonflower?¡±

    ¡°Do you recall the talk we had about not interrupting?¡± Oralia rested her forehead against Sascha¡¯s broad chest, ignoring the impulse to slam her skull repeatedly against a much harder surface in a futile effort to rid herself of her sudden headache.

    ¡°Of course. But here¡¯s the thing, you didn¡¯t like it any better when I stood off to the side and politely waited for you to finish last time, either.¡±

    Sascha lurched forward and buried his face into Oralia¡¯s shoulder to muffle his snorts of laughter. His upper body shuddered against her as he failed to contain his mirth. With an exasperated huff, Oralia said, ¡°No, you are correct. That was substantially worse.¡± Reluctantly, she untangled her arms from around Sascha¡¯s neck and turned about to face the intruder. ¡°My point is, can this wait? With you somewhere else, preferably?¡±

    Lingon stood with his arms crossed and feet firmly set a shoulder width apart. It might have been intimidating had the human been more substantial in size. Alas, barely surpassing five and a half feet, with long, feathered hair, little muscle tone, and a face that would have been attractive if it were not for the unruly mouth to which it was attached, Lingon was more visually confusing than he was terrifying.

    ¡°Well, I suppose it could wait,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°Although it might get awkward for everyone involved, considering there¡¯s about to be a supply wagon and gaggle of soldiers rounding the corner here any minute now. Just got word that the main force has reached the gate. Thought it¡¯d be polite to give you a heads up, seein¡¯ as there¡¯s gonna be people looking for you soon. But hey, you two do you. Or, you know, each other. Don¡¯t mind the unsuspecting soldiers. I¡¯m sure the horrors of war have dulled them past the point of caring anyway.¡±

    Sascha¡¯s face lit at the news, his laughter already forgotten. ¡°We have supplies coming?¡±

    ¡°Damn right. That¡¯s what happens when you send the super secret infiltration team ahead of the main force,¡± Lingon said with a proud puff of his scrawny chest. A harsh croak cut through the air as a raven circling overhead suddenly dipped lower. Lingon ignored the bird, continuing his recount of the raid. ¡°We reached the storeroom before those fleeing fuckers got a chance to set the whole place aflame. They had enough supplies squirreled away to keep an army for nearly a year! And I mean good stuff too, not just beets an¡¯ those slabs of rock you all mistakenly refer to as biscuits.¡±

    ¡°Hardtack,¡± Oralia clarified, her gaze still fixed on the circling bird.

    With its cries gone unanswered, the raven abandoned trying to gain Lingon¡¯s attention from afar and settled on a more blatant strategy. In a flutter of dark wings, it landed on the cobblestone beside him, gargling its disapproval as it pecked at his boot.

    Lingon shuffled his feet to avoid its frenzied pecking. ¡°Yeah, hardtack. That shit.¡±

    ¡°Thanks gods,¡± Sascha murmured. ¡°If I had to stretch that cabbage stew any thinner, they¡¯d have thrown me in it.¡±

    Lingon offered a cavalier shrug. ¡°Meh, I¡¯d still try it.¡±

    He and Oralia traded cutting glances for several uncomfortable seconds. ¡°Is that all?¡± she asked, finally. When he retained his vacant-eyed silence, she was forced to gesture to the bird hopping little circles around his feet. ¡°Because it seems like you may have business elsewhere.¡±

    He peered down at the raven for only a split second, as if noticing it for the first time, before snapping his gaze back to her. ¡°Nah, that¡¯s nothing.¡±

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    ¡°It does not sound like nothing.¡±

    The raven agreed with a ruffle of its feathers and another peck to the Lingon¡¯s foot.

    ¡°Not now,¡± Lingon murmured out the corner of his mouth as he encouraged the bird away with a gentle nudge of his boot.

    ¡°Are we done here?¡± Oralia asked, forcing an unfriendly smile.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you give me that look. You were in such a hurry for a dicking that you neglected to collect your spoils of war. I took it upon myself to track you down and deliver it in person. So yeah, you¡¯re welcome.¡± Lingon swung his pack around to his front and rooted through it, explaining to Sascha, ¡°Bossy britches here had me fetch a present for you while I was raiding the kitchen. She said to get a sample of every spice I didn¡¯t recognize.¡±

    Which, knowing Lingon¡¯s aptitude for meal preparation, meant all of them.

    Oralia caught Sascha staring at her. His eyes were big and his lower lip looked to be on the verge of quivering. She had heard a saying once, detailing that the quickest way to someone¡¯s heart was through their stomach. And while she initially misunderstood the implications of the sentiment¨Chorrifically¨Cthe intended meaning was surprisingly accurate. Except, in this case, the quickest way to Sascha¡¯s heart was not a meal, but through a well stocked spice cabinet.

    ¡°Ta-da!¡± Lingon produced a glass jar from his pack with unnecessary flare.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Some of the smile slipped from Sascha¡¯s broad face. ¡°You combined every spice in the same container.¡±

    ¡°Easier to transport. Much more practical than scrambling to find a little baggie for each sample like someone wanted me to do.¡±

    Oralia planted her face in her hands with a groan, forced to watch Sascha¡¯s soul slowly die between the gaps in her fingers.

    Sascha accepted the gift and forced a smile. His words were spoken with care, as if to remove every ounce of disappointment from his voice. ¡°That was very¡­thoughtful of you, Lingon. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah, save the mushiness for bossy britches. That counts as my good deed for the week. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯m in need of a stiff drink, a hot bath, and a lover with questionable judgment.¡± He trotted away, hailing over his shoulder, ¡°Don¡¯t wait up!¡±

    The raven took to the air, fluttering after him in a flurry of feathers and harsh croaks.

    Sascha waited until the Lingon¡¯s lithe shape disappeared back through the kitchen door before allowing his stoic shoulders to slump. ¡°Remind me again why he and the other one haven¡¯t returned home yet?¡±

    ¡°They do not know where home is.¡± No one had expected to survive the previous battle on Mount Hook. As such, the Stoneclaw brothers, Lingon and Mul, never bothered to ask where their clan was evacuating. Lacking direction in both the physical and authoritative sense, the pair had simply hung around until Oralia had no other choice but to grudgingly accept them into her ranks. It wasn¡¯t all bad. With Ellisar and Snag gone, the brothers had helped makeup for the sudden drop in manpower.

    Oralia¡¯s gaze shifted to the jar of mixed spices and her frown deepened. ¡°I am sorry about your gift. I mistakenly assumed it was a task even he could handle.¡± While merciless fighters, Mul and Lingon¡¯s royal upbringing meant their ability to perform any other form of vital life skill was severely lacking. Unless it involved killing, fucking, or lighting things on fire, the brothers were largely helpless.

    ¡°I appreciate the gesture.¡±

    ¡°I must admit, a small part of me feared he would find a way to blunder it.¡± Oralia unfastened the pocket along the front of her jerkin and withdrew a small, carefully packed vial. ¡°I took the liberty of passing through the kitchens on my way out just in case.¡±

    He held the prize up to his face, wide eyed and unable to tear his gaze from the collection of thin, red twig-like structures that nestled together on the inside. ¡°Saffron?¡±

    She didn¡¯t know why she felt suddenly vulnerable. She had never actively sought anyone¡¯s approval before and yet, the thought of disappointing him was a hit she was not prepared to bear. Personal relationships were strange that way. Having only been in a dedicated partnership for several months, Oralia still struggled with putting words to the racing thoughts that rampaged across her mind each time he was near.

    If she were more composed, she might have said: ¡®Is it enough? Does it communicate to you the feelings that I am yet incapable of finding the words to convey?¡¯ In the end, past the flowery language, at the very heart of the matter, perhaps it boiled down to a simple: ¡®Am I as good to you as you have been to me?¡¯

    She was trying her damnedest to be worthy of his love. But it was difficult. Things had changed since the mountain. How was she expected to share herself with another person when she no longer knew who she was? For two hundred years it had been simple. She was Oralia Dawnsight, Protector of the Realm. Straightforward, no nonsense, easy to define. Now, her title fluctuated between traitor and rebel based on her present company.

    Sascha threw himself forward and held her to his chest. ¡°Gods, I love you.¡± He leaned into her ear, whispering, ¡°No one else has seen us yet. There¡¯s still time for us to duck around the corner before that wagon gets here. Nuri can hold down the fort until I get back.¡±

    A flicker of excitement pushed some of the dread from her mind. That was one thing that hadn¡¯t changed. Her loving, endearing, positively fuckable fuckmate was still the same tender soul as before. And, judging from his mischievous smile, he was more than ready to indulge her regardless of whatever her current status happened to be. Swallowing the little squeak that caught in her throat, Oralia seized his hand and hurried around the corner of the building with Sascha in tow.

 136 - EVIL LAW

    ¡°Alright, listen up you swabbies! For the next hour, this bathhouse has been reserved for the meeting of the Emotionally Vulnerable Insight for the Lads and Lasses Affected by War. Now, I¡¯m not saying any of you lovely people need to vacate, nay, quite the contrary actually. We welcome you to join us as we bare our souls to one another free of judgment. A fair warning for the squeamish, though. There will be lots of crying involved. And I don¡¯t mean the pretty kind either, we¡¯re talking snot dripping down our noses, uncontrollable wailing, hysterics, all the good stuff.¡± Rali steepled her hands together beneath her chin as she stood in the center of the doorway, wrapped in an oversized bath towel with steam wafting around her ankles. ¡°With that said, who amongst you is ready to break down some emotional barriers?¡±

    Oralia lingered outside of the archway as the bathers jostled behind one another in their haste to not be the last person left in the water. Waiting until the last elf skirted past, still struggling to tie his towel across his waist, Oralia pushed off from the wall and stepped inside. ¡°That is only going to work so many times, you know. One of these days someone is going to take you up on that offer.¡±

    ¡°You deeply underestimate my ability to make people uncomfortable. Worst case scenario, I¡¯ll just start talking in depth about menstruation or diarrhea.¡± Rali padded over to the wooden bench set alongside the stone wall and rifled through a gunny sack she¡¯d co-opted as her ¡®everything¡¯ bag. ¡°I raided the toiletry closet while you were taking your sweet time getting here. Check it out, new soaps still wrapped in their little papers. Didn¡¯t know what scent you might fancy, so I nabbed us an olfactory smorgasbord.¡±

    Oralia took one of the bars the dwarf offered and held it to her nose. ¡°It smells like cardamom and pears.¡±

    ¡°Fancy, right?¡±

    ¡°...I have an unexplainable urge to put this in my mouth.¡±

    ¡°Alrighty then.¡± Rali promptly relieved her of the soap. ¡°No fruit fragrances for the hormonally charged orcess. Maybe you¡¯d be better suited for something with a more floral bouquet. That is unless you¡¯re finding yourself compelled to eat flowers, too. Not gonna lie, I¡¯m going to be a little worried if that¡¯s the case.¡±

    ¡°Anything that does not smell of horse will do fine, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Jasmine it is.¡±

    Checking to be sure the bathhouse was empty, Oralia let her robe drop to her ankles and stepped gingerly into the warm waters. Although she wore a thin undershirt and undergarments, the top showed a certain amount of skin that would undoubtedly draw attention. And not the lustful kind, either.

    The Copperstone Inn had been built over the top of a natural hot spring. While this meant the dingy air continually smelled of rotten eggs, the hot, mineral-tinted bathwater more than made up for this downside. As the bathhouse was a communal space, getting into the water alone had been something of an impossibility originally. A problem soon resolved by Ralizak and her formation of the Emotionally Vulnerable Insight for the Lads and Lasses Affected by War.

    A series of blue and white tiled steps led Oralia deeper until the water level reached past her navel. She sought the stone lip situated along the edge, hovering halfway below the surface that served as seating. Oralia sank to her shoulders and rolled her head back, savoring the way the water worked at the overworked muscles in her lower back. There was an unceremonious splash across from her. Rali surfaced near the middle of the pool several breaths later. After a series of laps, she glided back through the water and came to a rest alongside Oralia.

    Swimming was not considered normal recreation for a dwarf. Like orcs and fauns, their muscle mass made it difficult to navigate the waters without sinking. Snag and Ellisar, by contrast, were both natural swimmers and took to lakes and ponds like fish. Not one to be left out of the fun, Rali braved several questionable swim lessons from the pair before she had a firm enough grasp on the activity to partake without having to be pulled out of the water and resuscitated. The first time Rali had plunged headfirst into the pool and resurfaced on the other side, had drawn quite the attention from the other bathers. Particularly from the dwarf Captain Bernstein, although that might have been due to the fact that Rali had done so wearing nothing more than lacy smallclothes, rather than the actual swimming itself.

    ¡°So,¡± Rali said, flipping the wet, black hair from her face. ¡°I assume from your very lengthy absence earlier, you had a rigorously satisfying visit with your fuckmate?¡±

    ¡°You assume correctly.¡±

    ¡°Good, good.¡± Rali allowed an unusual moment of silence to pass between them before adding, ¡°And you put your big girl britches on and finally told him that those markings of yours are getting worse, right?¡±

    Even submerged beneath the bubbling waters, the dark spiderweb of veins branching from the center of Oralia¡¯s sternum was visible. An invisible weight dropped within her chest and she sank lower in the water, unwilling to answer.

    ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°He already knows about the markings.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but does he know they¡¯re spreading? You know, that thing you promised you were going to get around to telling him?¡±

    Oralia wondered, briefly, if the interrogation would stop if she were to slip completely beneath the water. Unlikely, given the way Rali was going at it. With her luck the dwarf would fish her out and continue to berate her between chest compressions.

    Rali threw her hands over her head, flinging warm droplets of water as she did so. ¡°How is that even possible? Sascha¡¯s got eyes, doesn¡¯t he? There can only be so many times you blindfold the big fella before he starts to catch on.¡±

    ¡°If you absolutely must know, I keep my top on.¡±

    ¡°And you plan to, what? Just do that indefinitely?¡± When Oralia made no immediate answer, Rali locked eyes with her. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle you¡¯ve gone this long without him discovering it, Oralia. You can deny its existence all you like, but you won¡¯t be able to hide it forever. Sascha¡¯s going to notice sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°I keep hoping that if I ignore it, it will just go away.¡± Wishful thinking, she knew. But at the moment, it was easier to indulge in the fantastical rather than turn the only constant in her life upside down.

    ¡°That¡¯s a terrible idea!¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± she groaned. ¡°But he already worries enough as it is. And with everything up in the air right now, I would rather wait until I have answers.¡± Specifically, whether or not the dark veins spreading beneath the surface of her skin would prove fatal or not. So far, all of the medical professionals consulted regarding the matter had been utterly stumped. They¡¯d advised her to seek the help of a healer in the magical field. A grand idea that was made all the more grand by the fact that healers were of the rarest type of witch. The rebellion had created an additional complication as anyone still practicing had either fled the fighting or gone deep underground.

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    ¡°I suspect I already know the answer, but I¡¯m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and ask anyway,¡± Rali said. ¡°What about that other thing you¡¯ve been neglecting to tell him? Get around to mentioning that yet?¡±

    Oralia raised her hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, ¡°I did not.¡±

    ¡°You already know what I¡¯m going to tell you, because it¡¯s the same thing I¡¯ve been telling you for the past several months now. For the love of gods, tell Sascha soon, please. I don¡¯t like secrets!¡±

    ¡°You love secrets,¡± she countered.

    ¡°I love uncovering other people¡¯s secrets and using that information against them as blackmail, yes. What I don¡¯t like is having to keep secrets. Especially when it¡¯s for people I care about. The truth is eating me up inside, Oralia. Do something about it!¡± Rali settled deeper into the water with a huff. ¡°When Ellisar gets back, she¡¯s going to take one look at me and know I¡¯m hiding something. And then she¡¯s going to pull out every dirty trick in the book to get me to spill the tea and, frankly, I don¡¯t think I can stomach watching her cry again. That last time just didn¡¯t sit right.¡±

    ¡°I will tell him soon, I promise.¡±

    Rali opened her mouth to respond, but paused, tilting her head curiously to the side. ¡°Do you hear that?¡±

    ¡°Someone running.¡± The loud slap of feet against tile echoed from further down the passage as the sound drew steadily closer. ¡°Barefoot.¡±

    Rali looked to the entrance and her brown eyes grew wide. ¡°Ah, fuck.¡±

    A burly, tanned blur of a man hurtled through the archway and leapt out over the pool, tucking his body into a ball moments before crashing into the water. A wave rolled across the surface in his wake, lapping loudly against the stone steps. Mul¡¯s head surfaced seconds later, throwing his luxurious hair back behind him in a spray of green-tinted water droplets.

    ¡°This is a private meeting!¡± Rali said.

    Mul slid through the water towards her, grinning. ¡°As a founding member of the Emotionally Vulnerable Insight for the Lads and Lasses Affected by War, it is my right to be here.¡± He settled onto the underwater bench beside her, resting one muscular arm against the edge of the pool in an overly comfortable gesture. ¡°Besides, Pickle, how else could I possibly expect you to open up to me if I don¡¯t bare my sweet, tender soul first?¡±

    Rali sank so low, her chin dipped beneath the water. ¡°You should know that I am currently menstruating.¡±

    Mul thumped his fist to his chest. ¡°Then my heart bleeds with sympathy for you, my love.¡±

    ¡°Did I, uh, mention the horrific diarrhea?¡±

    ¡°Who amongst us hasn¡¯t had a bad case of the shits before?¡± Mul edged closer, fishing her limp hand from the water and clasping it in his own. ¡°I am here for you, Quartzey. Whatever you need, you only have to ask.¡±

    ¡°You could start with going the fuck away? And stop calling me Quartzey or they¡¯re going to start calling you the Eunuch.¡±

    He leaned forward, whispering into her ear in a manner that might have had a more enthused recipient swooning. ¡°As you wish.¡± Mul pushed off from the edge of the pool and surged backwards in the water, holding his finger into the air above him. ¡°Just remember, love as pure as ours isn¡¯t something to run from. When you¡¯re ready to face your feelings for me, I¡¯ll be waiting!¡±

    ¡°I knew I should have brought my bathing knife.¡± Rali¡¯s dark eyes darted in Oralia¡¯s direction, noticing the way she was biting her tongue to constrain her laughter. ¡°It¡¯s not funny!¡±

    Oralia disagreed, covering her mouth as the small snorts of laughter slipped free. ¡°After years of tormenting everyone around you, I never thought I would see the day you met your equal.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not my equal! I just haven¡¯t found his weakness yet.¡±

    A nervous throat clearing echoed across the cavernous bathhouse, drawing their attention to the front archway. Captain Bernstein stood in the entrance looking remarkably bashful for someone still fully clothed. ¡°I apologize for interrupting the meeting, but¨C¡±

    ¡°Stay back, Almas!¡± Mul, by contrast, was unperturbed by his own stark nudity. He stood to his full height near the steps, allowing the warm water to rush down his tangle of back hair. The waterline, fortunately, was high enough to leave some things to the imagination. Mul lowered his voice to a loud whisper. ¡°Quartzey¡¯s got the menstruation shits.¡±

    Rali¡¯s expression turned to ash as she sank so low in the water, she nearly disappeared beneath the steaming green surface.

    ¡°Try to act natural around her, though. She gets super embarrassed by it.¡± Oralia could only see the back of Mul¡¯s head, but from his voice she was certain he was smiling. His mirth would be short-lived. Once Captain Bernstein left and Rali recovered from her shock, there was a good chance the joke would be his last. If Rali succeeded in catching him, that is. Oralia had half a mind to assist.

    ¡°Captain Bernstein,¡± she greeted. From his position by the doorway, she was confident he could not see the black veins branching from her sternum. She folded her arms over her chest for additional protection just in case. ¡°I assume you have another message from the council?¡±

    The freshly elected leaders of the New Adderwood Republic took their role quite seriously. Too seriously, perhaps, as their rabid devotion translated into an inordinate number of meetings at all times of the day and sometimes into the night, as well. Despite Oralia¡¯s continued insistence that she worked strictly on a volunteer basis, the council still felt the need to require her attendance.

    Captain Bernstein spoke as though he had rehearsed the speech several times in his head on the way over. ¡°As a show of gratitude for helping Adderwood secure our independence, the council has invited you and your team to attend a celebratory banquet tonight in the great hall.¡±

    Oh gods, no. She could handle the endless traveling, the many cold nights spent under the stars, and the occasional skirmish or two, but not this. She no longer had the stomach for feigned niceties and politics. All she wanted to do now was run from her problems and stab things. Was that too much to ask?

    ¡°I do not suppose there is any flexibility with the date?¡± Oralia had already planned to spend most of her evening unconscious in a soft bed. If she was able to convince the council to move the dinner to a later date, there was a good chance she could keep finding convenient excuses to put it off indefinitely. Like skipping town, for instance. ¡°As you can understand, we have only just arrived. My team is weary and requires time to rest.¡±

    ¡°The council were quite insistent,¡± Captain Bernstein assured her.

    She bit back the agonized groan that nearly escaped her lips. Not one for subtlety, Rali openly stated what Oralia was thinking. ¡°Cappy, with all due respect, you can tell them where to shove it.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Mul glanced over his shoulder at Oralia, somehow managing to make his eyes look big and puppy like. ¡°But it¡¯s a banquet. The kind with all the free food and fancy drinks, right? Why wouldn¡¯t we go?¡±

    ¡°Food and drink does not make the torture any less torturous,¡± Rali explained.

    ¡°Oh.¡± His broad shoulders shrank, managing to look almost pitiful for someone who Oralia wanted to strangle almost daily. ¡°It¡¯s just me an¡¯ Lingon have never been to one of those before. Was hoping to check that one off the bucket list before we inevitably die a gruesome death for a cause that¡¯s really more yours than it is ours.¡±

    ¡°Or you could just go home,¡± Rali countered.

    Oralia swore the man summoned tears to his eyes. ¡°What home? You mean the one you destroyed with that poorly planned plot of yours?¡± He bit his knuckle, turning away as his voice cracked. ¡°I still get worked up thinking about it. If only there was a way to forget. Like, I don¡¯t know, maybe a really nice banquet or something.¡±

    Rali turned to Oralia, whispering, ¡°We could send the dingleberries in our place.¡±

    ¡°We are trying to avoid a dinner party, not start an open war.¡±

    ¡°Kinda late for that, boss. We already started a¨C¡±

    Oralia decided that instead of acknowledging Rali¡¯s reply, she would simply speak over the top of it instead. ¡°Thank you for delivering the message, Captain Bernstein. You can tell the council to expect our attendance.¡± Although her reputation allowed her some leeway, she no longer had the status necessary to flat out ditch these types of social obligations. Meaning of course if she wished to remain in the favor of Adderwood¡¯s new leaders, she would have to indulge their silly theatrics.

    Captain Bernstein expressed his gratitude before quickly excusing himself, managing to do so without staring too blatantly at Rali. The dwarf in question was still slouched in the warm water, glowering at the prospect of having to put on pants for the occasion. ¡°I thought we were past all this,¡± she grumbled. ¡°What¡¯s the point of being an outlaw if I¡¯ve still got to do the song and dance?¡±

    ¡°Because even outlaws need allies.¡±

 137 - Misery

    He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been seated in the same position: reclined, head back, with a block wedged between his molars, and drool rolling down his chin. At first he¡¯d tried to watch, but the blazing white light overhead was nauseatingly bright and all he could pick out was the blurry shadow standing over him. Occasionally, the metal tool being used to rip apart the inside of his mouth would be traded out for another torture implement, reflecting the light from the glowing orb above as it passed from hand to tray with a soft clatter.

    The night of the Hanover Harvest Festival was still something of a muddled blur to him. Rasp remembered the incident at the fountain and then being pursued, but the events afterwards tangled together into a knot that was simply too painful to unravel. For some inexplicable reason, when he finally awoke days later, sore in places he didn¡¯t know existed and missing a good number of his teeth, he¡¯d expected to find Faris at his side. But, like everything else in his miserable life, it had simply been too good to be true.

    In his state of delirium, he¡¯d mistaken Hop, the third and final member of their small traveling party, for Faris. Truth be told, it wasn¡¯t a hard mistake to make. They were both fauns, their cloven feet went click-clack wherever they went, and seemed inexplicably committed to keeping him alive. There were differences between the two, of course. But Rasp was simply too miserable to even think about the many, many ways in which Faris was infinitely better.

    Unfortunately, trying to will his overactive mind into a state of blank emptiness was having the reverse effect. The pang of loneliness came crashing down, filling his insides with the insatiable urge to peel off his clothes and run as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. Rasp would have, too, if it were not for the fact that he was currently laid up with his lower jaw pried wide open, getting the remnants of his splintered teeth ripped from his mouth.

    ¡°Try not to move,¡± Hop¡¯s voice said from above him.

    Stifling the instincts screaming at him to either fight or take flight, Rasp settled on the only other option available to him: be as annoying as possible. Some days, it was the only part of his personality that remained. He clung to it for all he was worth, afraid if he didn¡¯t, it too might slip away.

    ¡°Are ¡®ou un ¡®et?¡± he managed around the wood block wedged firmly between his molars. His tongue, numb from the gel, navigated his mouth like an inebriated slug, idly pushing frothy spittle up and over his bottom lip without regard for how stupid it made the rest of him look.

    ¡°No. And again, please refrain from speaking while I have my fingers in your mouth.¡±

    Rasp sputtered for breath as he fought to stifle his laughter, nearly choking on the excess saliva that pooled around the edges of his sluggish tongue. Hop, bless his big, naive heart, had yet to grasp the nuance of phrasing. Even after months on the road together, the poor sap still couldn¡¯t wrap his head around why the word ¡®masticate¡¯ sent Rasp into a fit of giggles each time he used it.

    The dark, blurred shape hovering over him drew back with a sigh. ¡°I suppose I walked into that one, didn¡¯t I? I mean it, though. If you move your tongue during this next part, you stand to lose it.¡±

    It was a good thing Whisper was out, otherwise Rasp was certain his mentor would have interjected something about the lack of tongue being an improvement.

    Coughing the last of the spit from his throat, Rasp sank his head further back into the cushion propped behind him. The tooth extraction process did not hurt nearly as much as he expected it to, thanks largely to Hop¡¯s numbing gel. It was the tedious sitting for hours on end unable to shift and fidget and, more importantly, complain, that was getting it him. Not to mention the boredom.

    Bored, bored, bored¡­definitely not sad that Faris isn¡¯t here, but bored¡­bored¡­

    Immobile, unable to speak, curse, or otherwise fight, Rasp was helpless against the internal demons steadily clawing to the forefront of his mind. The pressure built behind his eyes until, eventually, he had no other choice but to acknowledge the truth of the matter¨Cthis was the most miserable he¡¯d ever been. Everything hurt, inside and out. A cloud of constant lingering dread weighed over him. It served as a cruel reminder that this was what life had become. And no matter how hard he tried, Rasp couldn¡¯t shake the feeling it wasn¡¯t going to get any better.

    Mother would have known exactly what to say to pull him out of his slump. But she was gone too. Separated not just by distance, but existence itself. Rasp missed her most of all. The thought of her death caused an involuntary twinge so strong, he flinched to avoid it.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Hop said, mistaking Rasp¡¯s flinch for a different kind of pain. ¡°That last root was being stubborn. The good news is they¡¯re all out now. Ready for the next part?¡±

    Rasp offered him a halfhearted thumbs up. Any pain Hop was capable of inflicting paled in comparison to the self-imposed torture taking place within his mind.

    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want a break first?¡±

    ¡°N¡¯uh. ¡®Ust ¡®o it.¡±

    While the words themselves sounded nothing like Rasp meant, Hop understood the overall sentiment. There was a soft, metallic clatter as he traded his current torture implements for another. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll move on to placing the implants then.¡±

    ¡°Tal me th¡¯o it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Rasp repeated the same line with limited success. His hand gestures weren¡¯t any better, but he tried anyway. He lifted his left hand and mimicked the movement of a mouth using only his fingers and thumb.

    ¡°You want me to talk?¡±

    He nodded.

    ¡°You, who insist I blabber your ear off on a daily basis, suddenly wants to hear me ramble on about nothing? Do I have that right, Rasp?¡±

    Rasp offered his best ¡®I¡¯m an asshole, pity me anyway¡¯ look.

    ¡°My gods, you must be desperate.¡± Hop¡¯s blurry shape drew closer once more. ¡°I suppose if it will help you get through this without stabbing me, it¡¯s the least I could do. It does make me wonder¡­¡±

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    Oh, yes. This was far superior than being stuck inside the downward spiral of emotions whipping about his head. Hop had that boring, droning kind of voice that was easy to get lost in. Rasp breathed a small sigh of relief as he relaxed into the chair, ready and willing to leave all of his pesky thoughts to sort themselves out.

    ¡°...Do you recall that watchman that was hounding you a few towns back?¡± Hop carried on. ¡°And how you told him to, and I quote, ¡®stop tongue wagging¡¯?¡±

    Rasp made a half-hearted so-so gesture with his hand. While he didn¡¯t recall the incident specifically, it did sound like something he would say.

    ¡°Would this be the opposite of that, I wonder? If you could speak, would you ask me to wag my tongue harder?¡±

    A violent laugh caught in Rasp¡¯s throat, causing him to lurch upright as he hacked his airways clear.

    Hop thumped Rasp¡¯s back, struggling to conceal the mirth in his voice. ¡°This is an inopportune time to point out you¡¯re rubbing off on me, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    The bastard was doing it on purpose! There was no way anyone could possibly have been this oblivious. Dear gods, laughing had never hurt so badly before. Tears streamed down Rasp¡¯s face as he gasped desperately for air, ignoring the impulse to yank the wooden block from his mouth and whip it at the person responsible for his pain.

    ¡°Wha¡¯ is wron¡¯ wif ¡®ou?¡±

    ¡°You just seemed more sad than usual. I was trying to, you know, lighten the mood a little.¡±

    Well fuck. Apparently Rasp was so deep in his funk even emotionally oblivious Hop was starting to catch on. Why did that make him feel more sad?

    ¡°It¡¯s out of my system now, I promise.¡± Hop pushed Rasp back down into a reclined position. ¡°From here on out, I¡¯ll keep it as tediously mundane as possible.¡± His hand moved back to Rasp¡¯s upper haw. Seconds later, Rasp felt pressure as something blunt pressed into the tender gum line. The flesh of his mouth put up a fight, briefly, before the object slid neatly into place.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to feel a little heat, but it shouldn¡¯t hurt. And whatever demented thing you¡¯re about to say, don¡¯t. Stay. Still.¡±

    Something blue glowed just below Rasp¡¯s line of sight, not that he would have been able to tell what it was anyways. A warmth pulsated across his palate, the source of which was centered around the base of the false tooth. Just as the heat was beginning to grow uncomfortable, it stopped, and Hop withdrew his hands from Rasp¡¯s open mouth. True to his word, the faun kept Rasp¡¯s mind occupied by going over in great detail how each false tooth had carefully been crafted from blah, blah, blah substance, hardened through science-y sounding process, and finished with blabber, blabber, blabber powder. Rasp assumed it was all top-notch work, as he understood absolutely none of it.

    The next three implants went similarly and it was not long after that the wedge block was removed completely. Sadly, the torture was far from over. Once the implants were set, Hop checked and rechecked the alignment several times, grinding and filing each individual implant as needed to ensure a proper bite. Rasp was nearly about to call it quits and make a break for the door¨Cregardless of whether or not he knew where the damn thing was¨Cwhen Hop finally declared his handiwork complete.

    ¡°There, finished.¡± There was an audible click as Hop extinguished the glowing head lamp nestled over the curl of his horns. As fascinating as the lamp was, it barely scratched the surface compared to the other tools the faun kept in his leather satchel. During the slower evenings, Hop would go through them with Rasp, explaining each item¡¯s purpose and how it worked. In the end, all explanations basically boiled down to the same common denominator: magic.

    Not Rasp¡¯s kind of magic, either. Hop was an artificer, someone who used a combination of magic and science to manipulate common materials and substances into acting uncommon. Or at least that¡¯s how Rasp understood it. There was probably a lot more to it, but that required actually paying attention to Hop¡¯s long-winded explanations.

    ¡°How do they feel?¡± Hop asked.

    First, he had to make sure his jaw still worked. After a few experimental stretches, Rasp attempted to run the tip of his tongue along the edge of his teeth. All he succeeded in doing was pushing a dribble of saliva up and over his bottom lip. ¡°...Uh?¡±

    ¡°That will wear off soon.¡±

    He wiped the spit from his face and then traced the outline of his new teeth with the pad of his thumb. The implants certainly felt better, not splintered in jagged little pieces or missing altogether. This was going to make eating so much easier. Biting, too! Seeing as he couldn¡¯t yet verbalize his gratitude, Rasp threw his arms around Hop¡¯s neck into a hug instead, nearly pulling the startled faun into the chair on top of him.

    ¡°Not the face!¡± Hop squirmed to get away before coming to the swift conclusion that Rasp¡¯s intentions were not violent in nature. ¡°Sorry. Little jumpy. I¡¯m never sure if you¡¯re going to hug me or hit me.¡±

    Faris would have known.

    The thought caught him by surprise. Well, it would have, if it were not such a recurrent one. Rasp often thought of his best friend, and where he was, and what he was doing, and why the fuck he wasn¡¯t here yet. Hop was a decent substitute, but he would never be the real thing, no matter how many times Rasp absent-mindedly called him by the wrong name.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Rasp.¡± Hop patted Rasp¡¯s arm nervously, adding, ¡°Do you think you could let me go now?¡±

    Hop stood and it was not long before Rasp heard the metallic clink of his tools being gathered and taken across the room for cleaning. ¡°I put a charm on the new teeth,¡± Hop called from wherever he was, undoubtedly sanitizing his equipment very, very meticulously. ¡°It¡¯s going to take real force for one of those to pop out. And that¡¯s not a challenge, so don¡¯t try too hard, okay?¡±

    There was a knock on the door in a familiar, rapid pattern. Hop¡¯s clacking hoof steps hurried to unlock it. ¡°Oh dear,¡± he said, sounding crestfallen the moment it drew open with a creak. ¡°You have that look on your face. It¡¯s time to move already, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°We have to depart immediately,¡± a new voice said.

    Rasp saw the telltale silhouette of a person framed against the light pouring in from the doorway. They moved swiftly inside, which made tracking their movement by sight difficult as their muddled form blended in with the rest of the cabin¡¯s blurred interior. It did not take brilliance to know it was Whisper employing yet another of their many mortal disguises. The fae often changed their look from one place to the next to keep their pursuers in a constant state of confusion.

    ¡°I knew this place was too well kept to be abandoned,¡± Hop said with a sigh. ¡°Are we expecting another angry homeowner?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Whisper said. ¡°I was not the only stranger in town. No one approached me outright, but they were certainly watching. We need to put as much distance between us and this place in the event they try to follow.¡±

    Rasp felt another small tinge of sadness. It had been kind of nice having a roof over his head, even if it was only for a few days. Such was life on the run, however. They never stayed anywhere for long. Rasp pushed from the chair onto his feet, his question directed at Whisper. ¡°See¡¯thers?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Whisper said.

    Right. That¡¯s still not working.

    ¡°Seekers,¡± Hop translated as he scurried about the cabin, gathering their sparse belongings.

    ¡°Ah. I do not know, little bird. But a number of them were magical in nature.¡± After a pertinent pause, Whisper addressed Hop. ¡°Why is he speaking like that?¡±

    ¡°I paralyzed his tongue during the dental work.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a marked improvement. You should consider making it permanent.¡±

    Rasp extended his middle finger in Whisper¡¯s approximate direction. ¡°Fu¡¯k ew.¡±

    ¡°I see you got some of the fight back in you,¡± Whisper said. ¡°Good. We may need it.¡±

    That sounded like the opposite of good actually. Rasp may have had the will to fight, but his magic hadn¡¯t fully recuperated yet. It was a small miracle he was even standing at this point.

    ¡°Worry about it on the way, little bird. We must leave, now.¡±

 138 - The Inconsolable Lump

    It took only a few minutes for Hop to gather the rest of his belongings before the trio were out the door and slipping into the surrounding woods once more. At Whisper¡¯s insistence, they avoided traveling along any established road systems. The chances of attracting attention were simply too great. Rasp shifted in the stiff saddle as the surrounding light grew dimmer, obscured by the thick treetops overhead. The earthy fragrance of sweet pine and forest rot clouded the air so thick, he nearly choked on it. Other than the occasional warble of a bird in the distance, the only sounds he could hear were the steady footfalls of the mule below him.

    Rasp had protested the idea of traveling via mule while the others were allowed to walk¨Cloudly and vigorously, as often as possible, regardless of whether or not anyone listening cared. He was a Stoneclaw, after all, and riding a beast of burden came as naturally to him as a fish took to long, romantic walks on the beach. Rasp was so adamantly opposed to the idea that he chose to stumble along beside the mule in protest instead. He made it an entire day and a half before conceding that perhaps riding might decrease the number of times he tripped and nearly broke his neck. Riddled with tree roots and unseen tripping hazards, the forest floor was simply too precarious for a blind man to navigate on foot with any efficiency.

    Thus, the mule stayed. Rasp even awarded her the loving name of Bonecrusher, on account of how many times she nearly broke his foot stepping on it. Hop tried to convince him to give her a more pleasant name, but Rasp refused. He would be damned before he, a mighty and formidable Stoneclaw warrior, the former Iron Devil himself, would be caught dead riding a Buttercup into battle, or through the forest, or wherever the fuck they were currently headed.

    Come to think of it, that was probably something worth knowing. Rasp opened his mouth and his tongue flopped uselessly over his lower teeth, producing a babbled string of nonsense. ¡°Where ¡®e ¡®oin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s lasting longer than I anticipated,¡± Hop said, failing to fully disguise his snort of laughter.

    It was a shame the faun¡¯s tall, blurry outline was just out of kicking range. For this exact reason, probably. Rasp was considering jumping from the saddle and tackling him, when Whisper disrupted his poorly plotted revenge.

    ¡°We are headed east, little bird.¡±

    As if that answered anything other than what direction they happened to be traveling. Hop, fortunately, could always be counted on to press Whisper for additional details. ¡°What¡¯s east?¡± he said. ¡°Do you have an actual destination in mind or is this another case of ¡®we¡¯ll know it when we see it¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Supposedly there¡¯s an old realm settlement out that way.¡±

    ¡°Supposedly?¡± Hop¡¯s tone shifted from inquisitive to disheartened in the span of a single word. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be like your last lead is it? Fruitlessly wandering the wilderness for weeks on end to no avail?¡±

    Rasp fought the smile that pulled the corner of his lips. It was a nice change of pace having someone else around who pestered Whisper just as much as he did. Unlike Rasp, Hop was also capable of getting his point across without relying strictly on copious amounts of profanity. A method that often left Whisper with no other alternative but to actually address said concerns.

    Whisper grunted in response. It was the sort of sound that was equal parts frustrated and annoyed. ¡°According to the villagers I spoke to, there¡¯s been a surplus of realm activity in the area as of late. A large caravan passed through some months ago, headed east, in the same direction as the old settlement.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all they told you? No names, no places, no ¡®stop when you see the secret fortress, if you hit the river, you¡¯ve gone too far¡¯?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°East it is then,¡± Hop said with a resigned sigh.

    To no one¡¯s shock, Rasp¡¯s ¡®surprise relocation¡¯ was not for the sole purpose of apprenticeship, after all. In addition to forcing Rasp to actually learn to use his gods awful powers, Whisper was dragging him along on what was swiftly becoming the magical equivalent of a wild goose chase. With iron poisoning slowly sapping their lifeforce, the fae was in a race against time to recover a lost magical item¨Cinsisting it alone possessed the power to make everything right again.

    Whisper believed their item had been bought and placed in a collection possessed by none other than the infamous Geralt Lazuli himself. For years, the fae searched the capital high and low without success. Geralt kept his secret treasure trove well hidden, however. Whisper may not have ever found it had it not been for the recent uprising. With rebellion breaking out across the United Territories, and the threat of an attack on the capital looming in the distance, rumor was Geralt had moved his collection to a safer location.

    For the past four months, Rasp and Whisper had been chasing down every two-bit lead without success. They¡¯d met resistance along the way. Their attackers ranged from common bandits, to realm patrols, seekers, and a few unnamed magical groups that, for whatever reason, all thought it was a grand idea to take their chances against a highly powerful fae and a half-trained witch with anger issues.

    That¡¯s how they encountered Hop, actually. He¡¯d been traveling with a party from the Division of Divination. Whisper seemed to have a soft spot for those forced into a situation not of their choosing and let the faun go. Free of the division¡¯s control, and without a home to return to, Hop just sort of stuck around. Rasp hadn¡¯t minded that part, actually. Whisper was, by all accounts, as conversational as a cactus. It was nice having someone else around who understood the merits of companionship. Plus, as it turned out, the prospect of raiding a super secret, magically guarded stronghold would be infinitely easier with someone who possessed functioning vision.

    ¡°Little bird?¡±

    Rasp flinched at the use of his nickname. It was better than ¡®fuck for brains¡¯ he supposed, but not by much. A part of him wondered if the title would change as his abilities improved. Would he eventually graduate to large bird? Was there a middle bird? A mediocre bird? Increasingly disappointing bird? The possibilities seemed endless.

    The wind picked up, blustering the hood from his head as a burst of magic filled the air. Seconds later, he felt the familiar pain of tiny, clawed paws scrambling up his leg and over his back, nestling into the fur-lined hood of his cloak. You seem in better spirits today.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    In other words, ¡®you¡¯re no longer an inconsolable lump refusing to get out of bed. What changed?¡¯

    You spend half your days as an inconsolable lump, Whisper said, that is nothing new. Is the new potion working?

    Hop had been experimenting with various potions in an attempt to stop the spread of the dark magic burrowed within Rasp¡¯s veins. It was a kind yet futile effort. Rasp didn¡¯t have the heart to mention that he¡¯d managed one sip of the most recent concoction before pouring the vile substance into the chamber pot.

    The potions might work better if you actually ingested them.

    Gods dammit. It wasn¡¯t fair having a mentor who could read his every thought on a whim. Rasp groaned, concentrating inward as he composed his internal monologue into a coherent reply. You know it¡¯s a lost cause. No amount of witch¡¯s brew is going to un-curse me.

    Have you told him that?

    What kind of asshole do you take me for? Taking care of me is the only reason Hop gets out of bed.

    And here I thought it was because you enjoy being doted on. Now that you no longer have your best friend to depend upon, you¡¯ve gone out of your way to replace hi¨C

    No, I haven¡¯t! And you can stop right there because we¡¯re not talking about it.

    Fine. Whisper¡¯s heavy sigh rippled through Rasp¡¯s mind. May we discuss that other thing you¡¯ve been avoiding then?

    Rasp sank lower in the saddle, dread pooling in his stomach. Naively, he¡¯d hope to avoid this conversation. As if not talking about what happened the night of the Hanover Harvest Festival would make the event itself cease to exist. Unlike his memories, Whisper could not simply be pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about. Rasp reached up and scratched the base of his neck with a trembling hand. The skin itself didn¡¯t feel any different. And yet, the way everyone had been treating him with kiddie gloves lately spoke of a different story.

    He supposed there wasn¡¯t any use avoiding the inevitable. How bad is it?

    The branching has spread considerably. It now stretches from the top of your neck past your ribcage.

    After months of training, it had taken but one moment of weakness to shatter any former illusions he¡¯d held regarding his control. Not only that, but doing so had increased the spread of the parasitic magic hitching a ride beneath his skin as well. Rasp gritted his teeth, hands clenching uncomfortably tight around the reins. Fan-fucking-tastic.

    I will continue searching for a cure, as promised. In the meantime, as disappointing as it is, you cannot allow one minor setback to¨C

    Dread transformed to rage, its blistering heat swelling inside of him. Can we skip the niceties and you just get to the part where you yell at me for being a complete fuck up? You haven¡¯t mentioned it once in the last three days. It¡¯s probably eating you up inside.

    Eating me up inside? Even in thought, Whisper somehow managed to impart this with the verbal equivalent of an eye roll. Why would I need to? Seems like you are doing a far better job of tearing yourself apart all on your own.

    Great. Good talk. Glad we finally did this.

    I could yell at you if you think it would help, but that is not the point I wanted to speak about. I was there, little bird. I saw what happened. You touched on powers you did not know existed.

    A fragmented memory flashed before his eyes. Rasp recalled how effortlessly the magic had bent to his will, as if the ability had been there all along, buried deep out of sight. There was something else, too¨Ca moment Rasp swore he had been able to see the magical auras of the witches around him. What came next was harder to explain. It wasn¡¯t so much an ability as it was a feeling. An insatiable hunger that damn near overtook him.

    Rasp snapped his eyes back open, scattering the memory back to the far corners of his mind. Those powers weren¡¯t mine.

    How do you know?

    I wanted to eat you, Whisper. I¡¯m all kinds of fucked up, but even I have hard limits.

    The hunger was not your own, no. But the powers were.

    Rasp wasn¡¯t sure whether or not to feel relieved by that.

    Don¡¯t you see? This is what I have been pushing for. I¡¯ve known what you were capable of from the first day we met. You¡¯ve barely scratched the surface of your potential and the only thing holding you back is yourself. You are on the cusp of a breakthrough. As I said before, you cannot allow one setback to destroy all of the progress you¡¯ve made.

    A Setback? Rasp fired back. Is that what we¡¯re calling it now? It nearly took control. I was on the verge of caving the whole city in! If you hadn¡¯t been there, I would have¡­ His thoughts trailed, unwilling to finish what they¡¯d started.

    You might have done something horrendous, I know. That is the whole point of training, little bird. You were woefully unprepared for that situation. You were never supposed to be there. I told you to stay with the bags, remember? You ignored my instructions and put yourself in danger.

    There it was, the inevitable tongue-lashing. The last few days Rasp had felt trapped in a bizarre state of limbo, trying to avoid the impending lecture whilst seemingly doing everything in his power to provoke it. He had hoped getting it out of the way would make him feel better. It didn¡¯t, though. Instead of the sweet kiss of relief, he had the sudden urge to tip over the side of his mule and become one with the forest floor.

    He yelped when a set of needled jaws nipped at the back of his neck. Fall off of the mule after I have finished.

    That¡¯s what she said.

    Oh good. Apparently some parts of his personality were still functioning normally. It didn¡¯t do anything to make him feel better, but at least it was still there.

    Once certain they were not about to suffer a traumatic fall, Whisper rearranged themself into a more comfortable position and went still. As I was saying, the blame does not fall entirely on you. Pushing you to resolve the situation when you weren¡¯t ready was short sighted of me. Hopefully what happened will serve as a reminder to both of us to finish your training before attempting something like that again.

    Rasp didn¡¯t know what to say to that. Unfortunately, his indecision allowed the thoughts to slip out unobstructed. I¡¯m sorry.

    Figures, Whisper muttered.

    What?

    The one time you muster an apology just happens to be the one time you don¡¯t have a working tongue.

    Is my repentance not good enough for you?

    I suppose. But gleaning it from your thoughts is not nearly as impactful as hearing it said aloud.

    It probably wasn¡¯t meant as a challenge, but Rasp took it as one anyway. He released the reins, throwing his hands out from his sides as he sucked in a lungful of dingy forest air. ¡°Whith¡¯per, I¡¯m th¡¯orry!¡±

    ¡°How unexpected,¡± Hop murmured from somewhere alongside the mule. ¡°Is what I would have said only two months ago. Oh, how traveling with you two has changed me.¡±

    Right. There were other people capable of hearing him. He¡¯d sort of forgot about that. Rasp¡¯s smiled sheepishly. ¡°Th¡¯orry ¡®op.¡±

    ¡°Truth be told, I was starting to feel a bit like a third wheel. I can tell you two are having one of your secret conversations. And here I am, stuck on the outside, no way of knowing whether or not it¡¯s me you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Rasp hooked his right foot in the stirrup to ensure his balance as he leaned out over the left side of the mule, just far enough to pat the faun¡¯s shoulder. He certainly hoped it was the shoulder anyway. ¡°Tha¡¯s all we ¡®alk about.¡±

    ¡°I knew it.¡±

 139 - A Meal Fit For Birds

    The dark canopy stretched overhead in an endless expanse of rustling leaves and creaking branches. Rasp¡¯s limited vision picked up occasional shafts of sunlight that trickled down through the dense treetops here and there, but the majority of the journey was carried out in what amounted to absolute darkness. Unable to track the position of the sun, his sense of time was turned on its head. He didn¡¯t know how long they¡¯d been traveling since leaving the cabin, but the fact that they weren¡¯t stopping meant it had only been a few hours. A bit of a shame, considering his ass had gone numb ages ago. No matter how he shifted in the saddle, he could not rid himself of pins and needles feeling working its way down his leaden legs.

    Whisper spent the journey nestled in his hood, going on and on about magic this and potential that. The words flowed in one ear and out the other. There was a trick to fooling Whisper into thinking he was paying attention, Rasp found. All he had to do was keep his thoughts open, mindlessly mirroring what his mentor said without actually absorbing any of the information.

    ¡­Which is why the obvious course of action will be to throw you over the next cliffside, Whisper¡¯s voice carried on in the background.

    The next cliffside, Rasp mindlessly agreed.

    Into a pit of sharpened stakes.

    Oh, yes. The sharpest.

    Full of snakes.

    Full of snakes.

    I know you¡¯re listening.

    Not listening, yep, yep. Got it.

    Raspberry Stoneclaw!

    His name shot like a lance of lightning down his spine. Rasp sat straight in the saddle, gritting his teeth as the echo of Whisper¡¯s voice bounced along the inside of his aching skull. Gods dammit! Will you stop doing that? Rasp released the reins, using his forefingers to massage the sudden throb from his temples. It fucking hurts.

    If you were paying attention, I wouldn¡¯t have to.

    Rasp rolled his head back with a groan. But it¡¯s so boring.

    You don¡¯t even know what I was talking about.

    Of course I do. Magic, training, how I¡¯m not listening.

    For a few blissful seconds, Rasp¡¯s mind was free of Whisper¡¯s voice. Naturally, it did not last. Lucky guess.

    Please, it¡¯s the only thing we ever talk about. I need a break. My mind¡¯s not a sponge, it doesn¡¯t just absorb these things. Your lessons need time to ferment before they stick.

    Unusual choice of wording, but I get your point, Whisper sighed. I will leave you to it then. Before I do, however, I have one final question.

    Rasp could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

    Have you given any more thought to what it is you want?

    And just like that, his mind went blank, void of all intelligible thought as it struggled to piece together what the question even meant.

    You do not have to provide an answer right away. Ferment on it.

    Rasp stared straight ahead, face slack in puzzlement, as Whisper¡¯s thoughts detangle from his own. The question echoed within his mind. ¡®What is it you want?¡¯

    What an odd thing to ask. Not the question itself, really, but the fact that anyone cared what he wanted. Rasp¡¯s entire life had been a matter of other people telling him what they expected of him and he, in turn, doing everything in his power to carry out the exact opposite. His training wasn¡¯t supposed to last forever. After he finished his apprenticeship, he would be free to do as he wanted.

    The problem was he didn¡¯t know what he wanted. He didn¡¯t have a home, no family, no purpose. He was blind, possessed unimaginable power, had no desire to use said unimaginable power, oh, and literally cursed on top of everything else. By all accounts, he was destined to spend the rest of his life on the run, avoiding any people who wished to use him for their own means. Which, apparently, was nearly all of them.

    The happiest time in his life had subsequently been the shortest. He found himself looking back on six months he¡¯d spent with the Belfast family more and more, kicking himself for not realizing what he had had while it was in front of him. He could go back to Lonebrook, he supposed. But doing so would be placing the very people he loved in the line of danger.

    In the end, when he got to the root of it, what he really wanted was to be someone else. The type of person who only dreamed of going on fantastical adventures but never actually broke from their dull life. Someone destined to live out their existence in quiet monotony, surrounded by friends and a warm bed and lots and lots of food. No more stringy onions and bitter dandelion greens, but bread, and meat pies, and mountains of mashed potatoes swimming in butter.

    On second thought, maybe he was just hungry. He tended to drift into overdramatic territory when his stomach was nearing empty. ¡°Hop?¡± Rasp spoke without thinking, surprised to find some of the life had returned his tongue.

    ¡°Still here, Rasp. Haven¡¯t gone anywhere,¡± the faun replied somewhere to the left of Rasp¡¯s mule.

    A false sense of contentment eased the storm brewing within his thoughts as Rasp realized he finally had an answer to Whisper¡¯s daunting question. ¡°I want a sandwich.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t help you there, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°I would get it myself, but you don¡¯t let me near the rations,¡± Rasp reminded him. ¡°Ergo, you are the food provider. Chop, chop now. You have no one to blame but yourself.¡± Safeguarding their food was a rather selfish act on Hop¡¯s part, Rasp felt. As if he couldn¡¯t be trusted not to scarf down their entire supply the moment Hop¡¯s back was turned. The absolute lack of trust was completely unwarranted. After all, he¡¯d only done it once so far and it was only half the rations, not all of them!

    ¡°It¡¯s more complicated than that,¡± Hop said. ¡°Do you remember the night we were in the city?¡±

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    More than he desired to, unfortunately. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°While you were left with the bags and Whisper was off doing whatever it is Whisper does, my task was to replenish our food supplies.¡±

    Already, Rasp did not like where this was going. Partly because Hop always took forever to get around to his eventual point, touching on as many needless details as possible before circling back around to his answer. The other, much larger piece of Rasp¡¯s discomfort stemmed from the fact that the sudden lack of food was probably his doing somehow.

    Hop carried on oblivious to Rasp¡¯s internal woes. ¡°Having finished my other errands, I was on my way to get the food when I was interrupted by a very persistent raven. I followed him and, instead of replenishing the supplies as planned, I wound up carrying you out of the city in a burlap sack slung over my shoulder.¡±

    Crap. He hated it when the consequences of his actions came back to bite him in the ass. ¡°We don¡¯t have any food leftover?¡±

    ¡°Some. The point of rationing, however, is to make it last.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t Whisper just visit a village? They didn¡¯t pick something up on the back?¡±

    Hop hesitated. ¡°Are they, um, asleep? Whisper, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Why are you whispering?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve read about far too many fae encounters to knowingly insult one to their face.¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t see what insults had to do with food, but for the sake of filling his grumbling stomach sooner than later, he dutifully checked. He drew into himself, opening his mind and waited for the uncomfortable moment the obnoxious voice in his head went from one to two. When the moment never came, Rasp concluded that his mentor had likely fallen into a deep sleep¨Can occurrence that was becoming increasingly more common these days.

    ¡°They¡¯re asleep.¡±

    For whatever reason, Hop still felt the need to keep his voice annoyingly low. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you have noticed, Rasp, but Whisper does not eat. Not in the same sense as you or I.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So to answer your question, yes, they did bring food from the village. Specifically, several bags of dried corn feed.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good, right? I like corn.¡±

    ¡°The kind you feed to chickens.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Rasp¡¯s sudden hopes for a decent meal deflated, much like his empty stomach, which was quite insistent it would start cannibalizing itself if he didn¡¯t fill it soon. That was one of the quirks about depending upon a fae for survival. Although Whisper had spent many eons living amongst humankind, they still didn¡¯t have a good grasp on what constituted edible. For example, there were a number of wild mushrooms not meant for human consumption. After the second accidental poisoning, Rasp had insisted on doing most of the foraging himself. Hop¡¯s unexpected enlistment into their troop had come with many added benefits, including a surplus of meals that Rasp didn¡¯t have to question whether or not they¡¯d be his last.

    ¡°If you¡¯re insistent on eating something right now, there are several edible food sources around us. White clover, dandelions, a nice strip of birch bark to chew on, perhaps?¡±

    Before Rasp could comment how he would have preferred chicken feed to any of those, the feathery snap of wings filled the air near his head. Pain erupted across his right shoulder moments later as Father landed, talons digging into his cloak and, consequently, the tender flesh beneath for stability.

    Rasp tilted his head toward the raven. ¡°You¡¯ve been notably absent. Where have you¨C¡±

    With a muffled croak, Father shoved something into Rasp¡¯s open mouth.

    It was cold, bloated, and covered in a slick layer of watery mucus. Rasp panicked. Instead of spitting it out, he swallowed, feeling it start to liquify on its way down. ¡°Oh my gods,¡± he croaked, mortified by what he¡¯d just done. ¡°That¡­that¡­was a worm. Did you just feed me a worm? Tell me you didn¡¯t just feed me a worm!¡±

    Father confirmed Rasp¡¯s suspicion with an approving click of his beak

    Oh gods. Rasp frantically wiped his tongue against his sleeve. His efforts succeeded only in adding an extra layer of filth to his soil flavored mouth ¡°Why was it mushy?¡±

    Father¡¯s answer was as simple as it was stupid.

    ¡°Because you found it in a puddle?¡± That certainly explained the texture and lack of wriggling. ¡°So not only did you feed me a worm, you gave me a dead and bloated one you found in a puddle?¡±

    Croak?

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t want another one!¡±

    Father ruffled his feathers with an angry gurgle before going still.

    Rasp hung his head with a groan. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Oh good,¡± Hop muttered. ¡°Another conversation I can¡¯t be a part of.¡±

    He spoke with his head down, chin resting against his bony chest. ¡°Father said he has imperative information, but now he¡¯s not going to share it because I don¡¯t appreciate how he provides for me.¡±

    ¡°Try giving the worm back to him. I hear birds like that sort of thing.¡±

    As lovely as it sounded to regurgitate the contents of his stomach and offer it to the raven perched on his shoulder, the last thing Rasp needed was drive the wedge between him and his father further apart. ¡°Oh!¡± He snapped his fingers at Hop. ¡°Give me some of the chicken feed.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re missing something,¡± Hop said.

    ¡°Look, I know he¡¯s not a chicken. But he¡¯ll literally eat anything. Come on, I¡¯ll show you.¡±

    The faun issued a wearisome sigh. ¡°I meant please.¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods, give me some of the chicken feed, Hop, please.¡±

    With an irritated flap of his ears, Hop¡¯s blurry shape moved out of Rasp¡¯s peripheral vision. Rasp could hear him rustling around in one of the saddlebags behind him. Hop returned, moments later, thrusting a handful of dried corn into Rasp¡¯s outstretched hand. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Rasp lifted the offering to the sulking raven. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not appreciating your worm, dad. Please accept this gift as a token of apology.¡±

    Father pretended to not notice for several seconds before gluttony got the better of him.

    ¡°Be gentle!¡± Rasp flinched as the raven¡¯s beak stabbed into his palm, gobbling up the offering as quickly as he could. Rasp waited until he¡¯d had his fill before asking, ¡°About that imperative information?¡±

    Father garbled his reply around a mouthful of dried corn.

    ¡°He says there are five travelers following us,¡± Rasp translated.

    Thus far, his father was the only raven from the flock to have found him. Whether the others were actually searching or not, Rasp didn¡¯t know. Despite their oftentimes volatile relationship, they were trying to make it work. One upside was that Father operated as an additional set of eyes and ears. With the raven watching from the skies, the trio had thus far managed to keep one step ahead of their many, many pursuers.

    ¡°Are they the same ones Whisper saw at the village?¡± Hop asked.

    ¡°How would he know that, Hop?¡±

    ¡°Fair point,¡± The faun conceded. ¡°What about uniforms? Were they wearing any sort of identifiable symbols or clothing? Robes, maybe?¡±

    Croak, croak, croak.

    Rasp popped the rest of the chicken feed into his mouth, detailing Father¡¯s report around increasingly desperate attempts to grind the dried corn to pulp with his back molars. ¡°He says they didn¡¯t look like they were from the division. They¡¯re carrying weapons and at least two had plated armor. Whatever trick Whisper used to disguise their trail has them turned around for the moment, but he thinks they¡¯ll find the cabin by nightfall.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s, admittedly, not good. But for the love of gods, stop eating the poultry feed!¡± Hop cried. ¡°I just fixed your teeth!¡±

    ¡°How else do you expect me to test them out?¡± The implants were working remarkably well so far. Unlike the petrified corn which, even when ground into more manageable sizes, was akin to swallowing broken shards of river rock. Rasp was committed to ridding his mouth of the vile worm flavor, however, and persisted in spite of the pain.

    Father normally would have put up a bigger stink about being deprived of a hard earned meal. From his smug cackle, he seemed to be enjoying Rasp¡¯s self-inflicted torture.

    ¡°For the record, I blame you,¡± Rasp told him.

    Croak?

    ¡°Well, yeah, partly for the worm but also the lack of thinking things through. I definitely didn¡¯t inherit that from mom.¡±

 140 - Flirting With Murder

    The week following the jailbreak came and went in a noxious blur. The party traveled during the night, utilizing the dark to cloak their movements, whilst bunkering down during the day when the realm patrols were most active. Daana caught only short bursts of sleep between stops and rotating watch shifts. When she awoke, for what might have been the third time that day, she was surprised to find the sun was already setting beyond the horizon. Its final rays filtered in through the dense trees, coating the moss riddled ground in eerie patches of waning pink and orange light.

    Easing upright, Daana took stock of her surroundings as the hazy visions of sleep slowly faded from her waking mind. Snag was gone, as was Wormy, the goblin¡¯s trustworthy horse. Ellisar¡¯s pack was on the ground beside her saddle and the only things that looked to be missing were her bow and quiver. Off hunting, probably. Ashwyn was seated on the trampled dirt near the center of camp working a needle in and out of a cut of cloth.

    Daana had seen Oralia do similar work around the campfire before. The notable difference was that Oralia made it look soothing. From the way Ashwyn muttered and cursed her way through, pausing every few stitches to suck the sting of a needle prick from her fingertip, it was not an activity she enjoyed.

    Stifling a yawn, Daana moved forward in an awkward shuffle. Her sore legs and hips protested any and all movement. Her knees buckled the moment she reached Ashwyn and Daana went down with them, managing to make her descent look more like an intentional sit and less like a full-bodied flop. Ideally, she would have worked the ache from her unruly limbs through stretches, but with the threat of another torturous ride looming in the near-future, she was going to take advantage of the stillness for as long as possible.

    Daana¡¯s dazed stare moved to the large cut of cloth clenched in Ashwyn¡¯s hands. ¡°Making a blanket?¡±

    The orc¡¯s dominant hand jerked to an abrupt halt. ¡°A tunic, actually.¡±

    ¡°That was going to be my second guess.¡±

    ¡°The flattery is not necessary, Peaches. I know dog shit when I see it.¡± Ashwyn stretched the garment between her hands and held it aloft, examining the uneven line of sloppy stitches with a growing scowl. ¡°I wanted something that didn¡¯t scream ¡®I¡¯m wearing my bigger sister¡¯s secondhand clothes¡¯ quite as loudly as what I¡¯ve got on now. Thought I could fashion something myself. I think I¡¯d be better off with a potato sack at this point.¡±

    Daana nodded along, too preoccupied with the nervous fluttering in her stomach to offer anything more than a smile. She¡¯d waited all week for the opportunity to approach Ashwyn alone, and now that she finally had it, she couldn¡¯t summon the courage to turn her thoughts into words. They all just jumbled together in a useless string of nonsense that clogged the inside of her throat, making it impossible to say anything.

    ¡°Got something on your mind?¡± Ashwyn offered a knowing wink before Daana could sputter out an excuse. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re about ready to ask me to the winter solstice ball with the way you¡¯re blushing.¡±

    Her skin burned hot against the cool evening air as her embarrassment crept from her face to her ears. ¡°There is, actually,¡± Daana said, still fighting the stubborn lump caught in her throat. ¡°I know there wasn¡¯t time back in the cell, but do you think you could, well, tell me about my mother now? What she was like?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s eyebrows pressed together as her unsteady hand slipped the needle in and out of the garment once more. ¡°Did I know her?¡±

    ¡°Larkspur, remember?¡±

    The orc¡¯s gray-blue head swiveled around in surprise. ¡°You meant that?¡± She must have seen the seriousness in Daana¡¯s face because Ashwyn¡¯s expression transformed from surprise to utter confusion. ¡°You¡¯re Lark¡¯s kid, for real? Did she have more children or¡­¡±

    ¡°I was the one put on the boat headed for the flatlands. I didn¡¯t know until recently, but Ellisar said you would be able to give me answers.¡±

    ¡°Me? Ellisar was the one with ties to your mother, not me. I barely knew her.¡±

    ¡°She was?¡±

    Ashwyn said, with much more hesitation this time, ¡°They were a couple, formerly. Long before Ellie and I met. That¡¯s the entire reason Larkspur reached out to us for assistance in the first place.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    With a sigh, Ashwyn dropped her work into her lap and rolled back her head, groaning, ¡°Of course Ellisar didn¡¯t tell you.¡±

    ¡°No, she didn¡¯t!¡± Oh gods, a troubled thought flashed through Daana¡¯s mind. ¡°Please tell me she¡¯s not my father.¡±

    ¡°How would that work?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m just learning a lot of new information right now and I don¡¯t like it!¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright, easy, Peaches. I¡¯m sure there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why Ellisar didn¡¯t say anything before.¡±

    ¡°Because she¡¯s a manipulative bitch?¡± Daana ventured through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Precisely.¡± When this failed to lighten the mood, Ashwyn continued, ¡°Look, from what I understand, their relationship was very¡­volatile. Ellisar didn¡¯t want anything to do with your mother afterwards. When Larkspur reached out after the division had taken her captive, it was me who convinced Ellie to help.¡±

    Apparently not just a manipulative bitch, but a heartless one too. Was it wrong that Daana was siding with her mother without even knowing the circumstances? At this rate, no. It seemed perfectly reasonable.

    Ashwyn looked like she wanted to say more, but did not yet know how. Slowly, she reached out and rested the flat of her hand on Daana¡¯s knee. ¡°May I ask why you¡¯re not with your mother now? If learning about her was your goal, this seems like a very convoluted way of accomplishing that.¡±

    ¡°Because she¡¯s dead?¡±

    The orc¡¯s gray eyes grew wide. ¡°Larkspur died? When did that happen?¡±

    A nagging idea pulled at the back of Daana¡¯s mind. Something about their stories wasn¡¯t aligning and she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that somehow, some way, it was all intentional. ¡°Of course she¡¯s dead. Your sister killed her!¡± Daana gestured with her hands as she spoke. ¡°Why am I even explaining this to you? You were there, weren¡¯t you? Shouldn¡¯t you know all of this?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s painfully blank face said far more than words could have.

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    Daana attempted to jog her memory with a brief history lesson. ¡°It was a pivotal moment following The Night of Stolen Lives. The Protector of the Realm, your sister, chased those responsible across the territories, cornered them in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, and slew the main instigator, Larkspur Denari. It¡¯s in all the history books.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the funny thing about history, Peaches. Tends to change depending on who¡¯s telling it.¡±

    Daana dropped her hands into her lap in defeat, shoulders slumping. ¡°So what are you telling me? It didn¡¯t go down that way? Because Ellisar said otherwise. Warned me not to tell Oralia who I was because she was the one who killed my mother. Implied she¡¯d kill me too if she found out.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­not right.¡±

    For what felt like an eternity, Ashwyn said nothing else, silently stewing in whatever thoughts were slowly unraveling within her head. Finally, with a hard glint in her eye, the orc lifted her fingers to her mouth and blew a series of sharp sounds that were remarkably similar to birdsong. Daana had heard Snag and Ellisar use similar calls to communicate with one another over distance. She could differentiate the ¡®danger¡¯ whistle from the ¡®all clear¡¯ and was even starting to get a grasp on Ellisar¡¯s infamous ¡®fuck off¡¯ warning, but this sound was new to her.

    ¡°There¡¯s no point in you and me trying to figure this puzzle out on our own if we¡¯re missing half the pieces,¡± Ashwyn explained. ¡°We may as well consult the source.¡±

    It was not long before Ellisar¡¯s tall shadow slipped from between the dark tree with a pair of rabbits thrown casually over her shoulder. ¡°I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me,¡± she grumbled as she made her way towards them. ¡°You scared off a nice fat one.¡±

    ¡°We need to talk,¡± was the only thing Ashwyn managed between clenched teeth.

    The elf huntress stopped near her saddle, a good three meter stretch from where Daana and Ashwyn sat. Ellisar¡¯s golden eyes swept between the pair, silently gleaning unspoken bits of information from their varied expressions whilst keeping her own strategically blank. Whatever eventual conclusion Ellisar reached, she kept to herself. She tapped her foot impatiently at Ashwyn and said, ¡°You interrupted my hunting to have a conversation? Surely you¡¯re not serious.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Ashwyn accentuated her next statement with a stern finger pointing. ¡°And you are not going to do that thing you do. I am focused.¡±

    Ellisar tilted her head to the side curiously. ¡°What thing I do?¡±

    ¡°Where you try to distract me by¨Cgah! See? You¡¯re already doing it. Not today, miss. Walk yourself over here and take a seat.¡±

    Wordlessly, Ellisar slid the rabbits and quiver that hung from her shoulder to the ground in a single, fluid motion. Reaching back, she unfastened her waist length hair from its tie, flipping the straw colored mane from her face with a casual whip of her head. When the cascade of hair settled, her face had changed. Softer somehow, and lacking its usual steely coldness. With her primping finished, Ellisar approached, adding a subtle sway to her hips as she strode confidently towards them.

    Daana sat utterly petrified. The hairs on her neck stood on end as she found herself wondering when exactly Ellisar had developed hips. The technique wasn¡¯t bad. Quite the opposite, actually. Which by itself was alarming enough to make Daana consider darting into the trees and ducking under a shrub to wait out whatever in chaos was about to take place.

    Ashwyn patiently awaited Ellisar¡¯s seductive approach. An unamused scowl pulled at corners of her mouth. ¡°You are really out doing yourself here.¡±

    Ellisar reached Ashwyn and extended her hand downwards, cradling the orc¡¯s chin in the center of her open palm. Her voice was nearly as soft as the uncharacteristic lift in her eyebrows. ¡°I knew our time apart would come with changes. Mostly for you, a few for me, but the malnourishment was a real shock. Even now, I hardly recognize you.¡±

    ¡°This is not the conversation we are having.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. Because I should be out fetching your dinner right now. That dungeon left you skin and bones. If I¡¯m going to get you back to your original strength, I can¡¯t waste prime hunting hours on silly conversations.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s formerly fixed expression started to slip as her eyes wandered down Ellisar¡¯s lean figure. ¡°I¡¯m the skin and bones in this scenario? Me? The one who had nothing to do but lift heavy things over my head and eat two regular meals a day for the better part of a century?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to say anything before, but I think I might actually be able to take you.¡±

    ¡°My arms are bigger than your head!¡±

    Ellisar slid her arms around her lover¡¯s shoulders and collapsed against her back, nuzzling her head into the crook of Ashwyn¡¯s neck. ¡°Hush now,¡± she whispered, with a sympathetic pat to the top of the orc¡¯s head. ¡°That¡¯s the delirium speaking. You¡¯ll come around once we get a few rabbits in you.¡±

    ¡°If your master plan is to fatten me up so I can¡¯t catch you, think again, miss. I¡¯ll have you face down in the dirt before you can say uncle.¡±

    The flicker of excitement that lit in Ellisar¡¯s golden eyes caused Daana¡¯s stomach to churn. ¡°Hold up!¡± Daana injected before Ellisar was given the opportunity to incite a chase. ¡°What in the name of chaos is happening right now?¡±

    Ashwyn flipped Ellisar over her shoulder and into her lap. ¡°You never seen flirting before, Peaches?¡±

    ¡°I have. This is not that.¡±

    ¡°Says the unbedded one.¡± Ellisar was a melted puddle within her lover¡¯s arms. Daana had seen enemies cut down for merely looking at Ellisar wrong and yet, suddenly, the blasted elf was as docile as a kitten.

    ¡°First of all, that¡¯s not true. Secondly¨C¡± Daana addressed Ashwyn, attempting to rekindle some of her previous fire ¡°¨CI thought you called her here to set the record straight?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Did I?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Daana slapped her open palm to her forehead, groaning, ¡°Our stories don¡¯t align, remember? I was led to believe that your sister killed my mother and that seemed like news to you.¡±

    ¡°Seven realms, Ellisar!¡± In a single swoop, the orc lifted the elf from her lap and deposited her onto the patchy ground beside her. ¡°You shameless cad! It¡¯s cheating to butter me up with your sultry little hip waggle and you know it.¡±

    ¡°As it happens, I have some butter on hand. I was saving it for later.¡± The elf leaned closer, long hair cascading over her face as she whispered, ¡°But if you want it now, simply say the word. I¡¯ll have you slick and glistening like a roast duck fresh out of the oven.¡±

    Daana choked on the vomit that was desperately trying to evacuate the inside of her throat. ¡°Dear gods, make it stop.¡±

    Ashwyn struck the flat of her hand against the ground. ¡°Ellisar Winifred Farrow, for the love of goddess, stop trying to seduce me and start talking. Starting with, why does Daana think her mother is dead?¡±

    In the span of a single heartbeat, Ellisar¡¯s sultry pout disappeared. Her mask of indifference returned with twice its normal severity. ¡°Was I supposed to tell her something different? I thought the point of a good cover story was to keep our lies consistent.¡±

    There was a definite edge to Ashwyn¡¯s voice now. ¡°Did you let Daana think her mother was dead this entire time?¡±

    ¡°This really shouldn¡¯t surprise you.¡±

    Ashwyn lifted her hand and held all four fingers and thumb splayed for Ellisar to see. If it was meant to be a threat, all it did was coax a half smile from its recipient. Ashwyn closed her hand into a fist and lowered it, gritting out through clenched teeth, ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why would you have not told her? You could have alleviated years of heartbreak at no cost to yourself.¡±

    ¡°There was a cost,¡± Ellisar disagreed. ¡°Daana would have dropped everything to go find her mother. Goddess knows Oralia would have bent over backwards to help if she found out. Obviously I couldn¡¯t let that happen. I needed Daana to get you out.¡±

    ¡°You could have found another way, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the catch though. If all else failed, I planned to make a trade with Geralt. Daana for you.¡±

    It was Daana¡¯s turn to raise her voice. ¡°You were going to do what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why any of this surprises you, kid. Don¡¯t ever trust people who take an interest in you. It¡¯s rarely for your benefit.¡±

    Ashwyn caught Ellisar¡¯s stare and the two appeared to battle one another with only their eyes. Finally, after coming to some form of conclusion, Ashwyn turned back to Daana. ¡°As my wife clearly has not been forthright with the truth, I will. Your mother is alive Daana. My sister never killed her, that was simply a cover story. Larkspur took her escaped followers, fled the realm, and took up residence in the flatlands. She has dedicated herself to helping other witches escape the control of the Division of Divination. It is my understanding that she is still there, amassing a sort of magical resistance.¡±

    Ashwyn allowed the weight of this to sink in a moment before asking. ¡°Would you like to meet her?¡±

    Daana¡¯s head snapped upright. The sting of betrayal was lessened by the sudden joy bubbling up inside of her like an uncorked bottle of fizzy spirits. She was so excited she wanted to scream and yet, her words were uttered barely above a whisper. ¡°More than anything.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be happy to take you to her.¡±

 141 - The Lost Cause

    The cold evening air stung the tip of her nose and each pointed ear. Daana hardly noticed. Not with the radiating warmth that spread from her chest to each fingertip and toe, filling her with a happiness she had never known before. Her mother was alive. What¡¯s more, Daana was being taken to her. She blinked away the swelling tears that threatened to fall, all while wondering if this was just another cruel dream and, any moment now, she would awaken to find herself lost and alone in the world once more.

    The ruckus coming from the lithe figure who paced back and forth, kicking up the dirt on the edge of her peripheral vision was, admittedly, making the scenario a little less dreamlike. ¡°No!¡± Ellisar thundered, accentuating each word with a dramatic foot stomp. ¡°No, no, no, no!¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s offer to reunite Daana with her mother had flipped the conversation on its head, reversing her and Ellisar¡¯s given roles. The orc remained seated on the ground, her once rigid shoulders now noticeably relaxed¨Cthe cool, calm antithesis to Ellisar¡¯s fiery rage. A faint smile played on Ashwyn¡¯s lips as she watched her partner¡¯s increasingly desperate antics. ¡°This is not your most compelling argument so far, dear.¡±

    ¡°You want an argument?¡± Ellisar whirled around, loose hair whipping over her shoulder as she threw her hands out from her sides. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a fucking argument. Starting with, are you out of your fucking mind?¡±

    ¡°I think that qualifies as a question.¡±

    ¡°I broke you out so we could retire. The last thing we need is for you to get us roped into another bloody war!¡±

    ¡°Returning Daana to her mother is not getting involved,¡± Ashwyn replied matter-of-factly. ¡°It is repaying a debt. One that you incurred by lying and manipulating her in the first place.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I do!¡±

    ¡°I know, and you¡¯re so good at it. Just like I¡¯m good at volunteering our services for lost causes. We balance each other out.¡±

    ¡°This is not a lost cause. It¡¯s suicide!¡± Ellisar said. ¡°We already have Geralt and half the realm tearing apart the countryside looking for us. We don¡¯t need to take on any more trouble right now.¡±

    The radiating warmth stirring within Daana¡¯s rapidly beating chest started to dissolve. Her wide-eyed gaze darted back towards the trees as she considered¨Cfor what would not be the first, nor last time that evening¨Cwhether or not it was too late to extract herself from the heated conversation as quickly as her feet could carry her. Although she had never had the privilege of witnessing a parental argument, she was certain this is what it must have felt like. Ashwyn and Ellisar argued back and forth in front of her, about her, speaking as if she wasn¡¯t even there!

    Alas, her inability to act did not apply to the others, and the argument carried on around her regardless.

    ¡°Whether or not we help Daana doesn¡¯t change the fact that we¡¯re wanted fugitives, Ellie.¡± Ashwyn collected the cloth from her lap and resumed the process of stitching it into something that loosely resembled clothing. ¡°We¡¯re still going to have a bounty on our heads either way.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and do you know what makes wanted fugitives easier to catch? Stupid shit like trying to smuggle a palace brat across war stricken territories to another fucking continent! Larkspur is all the way out in the flatlands, remember?¡±

    ¡°I would argue that leaving the territories in which we are wanted fugitives might actually be a good thing, no?¡±

    Ellisar was back to pacing, stopping every few steps to punt any stone she happened upon as far into the trees as physically possible. ¡°The flatlands are not a simple hop, skip, and jump away. Getting there will take weeks.¡±

    ¡°Months, even. Depending on the route and how vigorously Geralt is patrolling the borders.¡± Ashwyn passed the needle through the cloth and pulled the thread taut as her eyes roved upwards, considering alternatives to their predicament. ¡°Passage by sea would be faster. That would require finding a vessel traveling in that direction and bribing our way onboard, of course.¡±

    Ashwyn tilted her head at Ellisar curiously. ¡°Remind me, how much money do you have on hand again, dear?¡±

    ¡°None!¡±

    The orc resumed her stitching with a hapless shrug. ¡°By horseback it is then.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Ellisar accentuated this with her most powerful kick yet, sending a fist-sized stone hurtling into the woods at lethal speed. A thunderous crack rang out the moment the projectile struck a tree trunk beyond their line of sight. ¡°I¡¯ll return Daana myself then. You just stay out of it. I¡¯ll hole you up in a cave somewhere and come back for you when I¡¯m finished.¡±

    ¡°For Daana¡¯s sake, I think I will be seeing this one through.¡±

    Daana narrowed her eyes at Ellisar. ¡°You were planning on ditching me, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ellisar¡¯s stare was as cold as ice. ¡°That¡¯s what I was planning. Definitely not something more permanent involving a rock, some rope, and a fast moving river.¡±

    ¡°You big flirt,¡± Ashwyn said with a snort.

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to make executive decisions for us on your own. We¡¯re partners. That¡¯s what we agreed on.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m making a decision for myself. You are more than welcome to join or wait for my return. That decision is entirely up to you.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know the way!¡±

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    ¡°True.¡± Ashwyn nodded, no longer able to disguise the mischievous smile that pulled across her tusked face. Despite the inescapable tension hanging over their heads, there was clearly a game afoot to which Daana neither understood the rules, nor wanted to. The orc carried on, as chipper as ever. ¡°Never fear, love. I¡¯m certain Daana and I can make do without you.¡±

    ¡°That could take months!¡±

    ¡°Years, even. What with my tendency to treat directions like suggestions and all.¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s rigid shoulders slumped. ¡°We¡¯re not even going to talk about this?¡±

    ¡°Oh, now you want to talk? Funny how that only happens when the situation is an inconvenience to you.¡± Ashwyn kept her eyes on her work, moving the needle in and out of the cloth with not a practiced hand, but a determined one. The previously light, cheery playfulness left her voice, leaving in its stead a tone that had more weight to it than an iron anvil. ¡°Of course we¡¯re going to talk about this more. Later, preferably. When there isn¡¯t an impressionable elfling that might get scarred for life present.¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s reply came in the form of an unintelligible growl.

    ¡°So feisty, tonight.¡± Ashwyn waved her off with a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ll have to remember that while we practice our counting later.¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s pinched expression held strong for several heartbeats before it gave in, transforming into something that looked merely annoyed, and no longer teetering on edge of committing a murder spree. With a disgusted shake of her head, the elf collected her bow and quiver and slung them back over her shoulder. ¡°You make it very hard to stay angry at you when you say things like that.¡±

    ¡°Love you too,¡± Ashwyn replied sweetly.

    Ellisar¡¯s harsh stare dropped to the pair of dead rabbits before shifting to Daana. ¡°Make yourself useful and clean these while I¡¯m gone.¡± And then, in a manner that was as unnatural as it was unexpected, the corner of Ellisar¡¯s upper lip lifted and a single, pained word emitted from between her tightly clenched teeth. ¡°Please.¡±

    Now Daana really wanted to run.

    Wordlessly, Ellisar tugged her hood back over her head and strode back into the trees, disappearing without a sound.

    ¡°...What just happened?¡± Daana asked feebly.

    ¡°Sorry. Didn¡¯t mean for you to see all that, Peaches. It was nothing really. Just your typical marital spat.¡±

    Daana was one hundred percent certain none of what she just witnessed could be classified as typical¨Cparticularly the ¡®please¡¯ part. Deciding it was best if she didn¡¯t understand, Daana grudgingly stood and went and collected the rabbits. She tried not to notice the way they stared up at her with wide, vacant eyes. Ellisar had already performed a quick field dressing, slicing the rabbits from chest to tail on the underside and removing their entrails. She¡¯d graciously left the skin and heads intact for Daana to deal with on her own.

    ¡®It builds character¡¯ was Ellisar¡¯s customary response when Daana objected to such indelicate work.

    The voracious rumble in her stomach told her it would be worth a few moments of queasiness. Old Daana would have turned her nose up at such a task, but this was a matter of life and death now, and survival made you do things you never thought possible. With a sigh, she rolled her sleeves to the elbow and slipped a folding knife from her trousers. She selected the larger rabbit and set about slicing a pocket into the hide along the back, trying not to look the poor thing in the eyes as she did so.

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe you¡¯re Lark¡¯s kid,¡± Ashwyn said.

    Daana hooked her first two fingers on each hand into the pocket and pulled, separating the hide from the meat with a series of strained tugs. Talking helped keep her mind off the fact that the pelt was not tearing away as neatly as she would have preferred. ¡°I¡¯m still wrapping my head around it, too.¡±

    ¡°You some kind of witch then? Like your mother?¡±

    There had been a time in her life, not too long ago, that Daana would have sold her soul to become a witch. As of late, those dreams had since turned to nightmares and Daana had done everything in her power to bury them. Such information didn¡¯t make for polite conversation so she grunted a simple ¡®no¡¯ instead.

    ¡°You cursed then?¡±

    Her eyebrows knit together. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You arms, Peaches. You¡¯ve either got a very interesting taste in body modification, or something else is going on. And I mean this in the nicest way, but you don¡¯t seem like the type to sit through a tattoo much less whatever that is.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    Shit. She forgot how well orcs could see in the dark. Suddenly self conscious of her exposed arms, Daana fought the urge to tug her sleeves back over the black veins. Not a good idea at the moment, considering her hands were slick with rabbit juices. ¡°Maybe?¡± she said, separating the last stubborn strip of hide from the meat with an ungentle tug. ¡°Hard to say, really. No one¡¯s been able to provide any answers so far. All I know is that it acts squirrely around magic.¡±

    The use of her powers seemed to exacerbate the spread as well. While Daana could not rid herself of the infection itself, abstaining from magic was helping slow the transmission. And, as if that wasn¡¯t reason enough, there was also that other unfortunate side effect the dark magic had each time she activated her powers. That thing she didn¡¯t dare talk about even though forgetting it had proved somewhat impossible so far.

    On cue, her vision filled with the memory of crackling yellow and orange tongues of flame licking the dark night sky. She could suddenly feel the scorching heat against her face as the screams grew fainter in the distance.

    ¡°Daana?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Daana cleared the haunting images from her mind with a violent shake of her head, only vaguely aware that Ashwyn had said something. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what was that?¡±

    The orc narrowed one eye at her suspiciously. ¡°Is it going to be a problem, I said.¡±

    ¡°No, not at all.¡± So long as Daana forwent the use of magic, everything would be just peachy. ¡°Not to you anyway. Might kill me though.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to hear that.¡± To Ashwyn¡¯s credit, she managed to impart this while sounding believable. ¡°All the more reason to go see your mother, I imagine. If anyone knows how to fix it, it¡¯ll be her.¡±

    ¡°Was she nice?¡± Daana resisted the sudden urge to kick herself. Of all the questions she could have blurted out, why did she pick that one? It was better than, ¡®did she love me?¡¯, Daana supposed. Or ¡®did she regret abandoning me?¡¯ ¡®Will I finally have the family I so desperately want?¡¯

    ¡°Was she nice?¡± Ashwyn repeated, seemingly stumped by the question.

    ¡°My mother. Ellisar says she was a bitch.¡±

    ¡°Ah well, if it helps, Ellie calls almost everyone that.¡±

    ¡°I want to know what she was like.¡± Daana reached for the second rabbit as she talked. ¡°You know, if we¡¯re going to get along or if she¡¯s just going to end up tolerating me like everyone else does.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± From Ashwyn¡¯s startled expression, she was thinking something along the lines of ¡®I am woefully unprepared for a conversation of this magnitude¡¯. After a moment of pained deliberation, she offered something that helped ease some of the growing anxiety rolling around Daana¡¯s empty gut. ¡°You¡¯ve got to remember, I met her in a very desperate time. We were on the run with half the realm at our backs. Nice wasn¡¯t something any of us cared about. She was determined, though. And fierce. Goddess, your mother didn¡¯t back down for anyone or anything.¡±

    That was something, wasn¡¯t it? Daana lifted her head, feeling her spirits do the same. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Put it this way, most days I was just relieved she and I were fighting on the same side.¡±

 142 - Revenge Box

    It was past sunset when Ellisar returned from her hunt with a third rabbit slung over her shoulder. She cleaned and skewered it herself this time, placing the rabbit over Daana¡¯s crackling fire alongside the other two. Alas, not even the mouth-watering aroma of roasted meat was enough to lift the mood. No one spoke, not even after the food was broken down and portioned out. Seated near the fire, gnawing every edible scrap from a piping hot hind leg, Daana racked her brain for some way to ease the apprehension that hung as thick as smoke over their heads. Each attempt to start a conversation, however, was met with single word answers, serving only to double the mounting tension.

    Daana practically jumped to her feet with relief when Wormy¡¯s shaggy shape materialized from between the dark trees with Snag on his back. ¡°By the gods, it took me nearly all day, but I did it! I finally found it!¡± The goblin slid from the saddle and sauntered towards them with an uncharacteristic spring in his step. Some of the glee bled from his smile when he noticed Ashwyn and Ellisar glowering across the dwindling coals at one another. ¡°What, honeymoon over already? You two sure work fast.¡±

    ¡°Just having a moment,¡± Ashwyn assured him. Her easy smile returned, even if it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re awful chipper. What¡¯s it you found?¡±

    ¡°That is for me to know and you to find out. The sooner, the better. Now hurry up and get off your butts, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Daana extended half a skewer of roasted rabbit in Snag¡¯s direction. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to eat first? We saved you some.¡±

    ¡°Do I look like I need mothering to you?¡± Snag snatched the stick from her hand and swung it at her for daring to be considerate of his needs.

    Daana ducked out of the way in the nick of time, avoiding an unpleasant encounter involving the side of her face and a hunk of charred rabbit. ¡°Ha!¡± she said, rolling triumphantly to her feet. ¡°You missed.¡±

    The goblin lifted the skewer to his mouth and ripped away a charred mouthful, chewing as he spoke. ¡°You¡¯re getting faster.¡±

    ¡°Funny. I was just about to accuse you of getting slower.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, pick on the old slow goblin, why don¡¯t you? Never mind that he¡¯s been away all day scouring the countryside all by his lonesome. No food, no water, no rest.¡± Snag met Daana¡¯s scowl with his widest smile yet, displaying every needled tooth in his jagged mouth. ¡°Go saddle your damn horse already. We¡¯ve got places to do and things to be.¡±

    And with that, the campfire was extinguished, the horses saddled, and they were plodding off into the dark wilderness. Ashwyn and Ellisar trailed behind them, maintaining a noticeable distance, enabling them to trade whispered words without anyone overhearing. At least they were speaking again, Daana supposed. Even if it didn¡¯t look like a particularly productive dialogue.

    ¡°What¡¯s with the shovels?¡± she said, noting the two new, suspicious additions strapped across Wormy¡¯s saddle.

    Snag glanced at her from the corner of his eye, using a rabbit bone to dig out the stringy bits of dinner still caught in his teeth. ¡°Are you confused what a shovel is for? Or what I plan to be doing with ¡®em? Not that it matters, really. The answer¡¯s the same.¡±

    ¡°I know what a shovel is for.¡± Daana rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not planning to do some late night grave robbing, are you?¡±

    His grin widened. ¡°Not if I can help it.¡±

    In spite of her persistent questioning, Snag didn¡¯t offer much in the way of an explanation for anything. The most she got was that their destination was a surprise, and he wanted to keep it that way. Had this meager statement come from Ellisar, Daana might have turned and ridden as fast and as far as she could in the opposite direction. But Snag was infinitely more trustworthy and, despite his insistence otherwise, had too much of a conscience to lure anyone out into the dark woods to make them dig their own grave.

    After nearly an hour of travel, the towering pines started to thin, revealing a wooded area that had been cleared of trees once upon a time. A long once upon a time ago, judging from the random scattering of saplings that now grew in the shadows of their ancient brethren.

    Snag wasted no time with explanations. He slid from the saddle and flung a shovel in Daana¡¯s direction. ¡°Look alive!¡±

    Daana caught it, nearly spilling from the horse in the process. With a grumble, she dismounted and tied her mare to a tree before picking her way across the fern-carpeted ground after him. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Ellisar and Ashwyn were hanging back, both with their arms crossed, looking prepared to launch into a fight the moment their companions were out of earshot.

    A chill wind blustered through the surrounding trees, carrying with it the familiar scents of decayed autumn leaves and damp toadstools. Daana shivered, drawing her cloak tighter over her shoulders. Ahead of her, she could just make out the decayed ruins of a former stone cottage. At least that¡¯s what it might have been. After decades of neglect, the surrounding wilderness had simply grown over the top of it.

    ¡°What is this place?¡±

    Snag came to a stop several yards from the site. ¡°Home. One of ¡®em anyway.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Daana looked up and down the rotted plot of land, racking her brain for something nice to say. ¡°I like what you¡¯ve done with the place.¡±

    ¡°After I returned you, I used the reward money to open an apothecary,¡± Snag explained. ¡°The nearby villagers weren¡¯t a fan of my kind, turns out. So they burned it to the ground. I rebuilt, a little further from town just to be safe. And they burned that one too. The third and final testament to my obstinate nature was this little rundown hovel way out in the middle of the woods where only the truly desperate would care to find me. Business was slow, but steady. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was mine at least.¡±

    ¡°This is going to be another sad story, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    He wrinkled his upturned nose at her in a teasing manner. ¡°Did the rotted pile of house give it away?¡±

    Nothing seemed to go right for Snag. She supposed she could let him tell the story without interrupting at least. ¡°Go on then. What happened to this one?¡±

    ¡°It was all going surprisingly well, actually. And then one day this crazy elf comes knocking down my door. Says she¡¯s looking for a doctor. Before I could get two words in, an orc barges in and drops an injured dwarf on my worktable. All three of ¡®em were covered in blood and armed to the teeth. I just shut up and did what I could to stop the bleeding. Turns out, they¡¯d been sent in to take care of a nuisance dragon problem. What they didn¡¯t tell me was that the beast was still alive. It tracked them back to my shop and¨Ccan you guess what it did?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Daana covered her mouth as her eyes grew wide. ¡°It didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°The next thing I know, the roof is up in flames!¡± Snag threw his hands over his head for effect. ¡°They got their friend out in time, but there was no saving the place. I got so mad I blacked out. I don¡¯t remember what happened, but when I came around again, I was covered in dragon guts and the other three were looking at me like I was foaming at the mouth. Apparently I¡¯d made some mixture, popped it into the beast¡¯s mouth, and stood in front of it waiting for it to blow fire at me. It did just that, except instead of incinerating me, whatever I¡¯d thrown down it¡¯s gullet caught fire first and blew the damn thing¡¯s head off. The orc was real quick to compensate me for all the damages after that. She paid in full, too. No questions asked. Didn¡¯t even try to haggle the price down¨Cwhich was a stroke of luck considering I¡¯d quoted her double.

    ¡°And then the unthinkable happened.¡± Snag lowered his arms and hugged them to his chest as his gaze swept across the reclaimed hovel. ¡°She offered me a job. Said she could use someone with my skills on her team.¡±

    ¡°And you accepted?¡±

    ¡°To be fair, I had no idea who she was. There was still a bit of a language barrier at the time. But she had coin and obviously wasn¡¯t shy about dishing it out. I figured I¡¯d join up and fleece her blind for a couple months before going off on my merry way.¡± Snag¡¯s smile lessened. ¡°I eventually figured out who she was and realized swindling the Protector of the Realm probably wasn¡¯t the best idea.¡±

    ¡°But you stayed.¡±

    ¡°My salary was never stilted and no matter where we went, there would be chaos to pay if someone refused me service. I was planning to leave, just never got around to it. It¡¯s funny the lengths we¡¯ll go to feel wanted.¡±

    ¡°Aw,¡± Daana said. For a Snag story, this one didn¡¯t seem to end as miserably as most. For that reason, she hoped it didn¡¯t have a part two. ¡°Did you bring us all the way out here just to tell me that?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to rub it in Ellisar¡¯s face one last time before I leave this wretched place forever. For that, I¡¯m gonna need money.¡± Snag walked to the large bent willow tree growing on the left side of the destroyed cottage. He studied the trunk for several seconds before picking a direction and walking heel-to-toe, counting softly to himself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t trust banks?¡± Daana called to him. ¡°Why am I not surprised?¡±

    ¡°Find me a single bank in Sunstorn that¡¯ll open an account to a goblin and I¡¯ll show you a two-faced liar.¡± Finished counting, he marked the ground with the largest claw on his foot and turned to her expectantly. ¡°Got your shovel ready?¡±

    Daana raised her eyebrows at him, unamused. ¡°Nice try. You¡¯re not conning me into doing your grunt work.¡±

    ¡°Ah!¡± The goblin took a step and winced as imaginary pain coursed across his body. He dropped to the fern-carpeted ground, drawing one knee to his chest dramatically. ¡°Curse this wretched leg! Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if the mountain took me.¡±

    ¡°Not buying it.¡±

    He writhed helplessly amongst the weeds for several more awkward seconds.

    ¡°Still not buying it.¡±

    ¡°I really thought the pity card was going to work on you. Hmmm.¡± Snag sat upright and appeared to ponder an alternative that allowed him to get away with as little work as possible. ¡°Think it¡¯ll work on Ashwyn?¡±

    ¡°Think what¡¯ll work on Ashwyn?¡± The orc in question strolled into the clearing and joined them. There was a sort of bounce to her step when she walked, giving the deceptive perception that she was lighter than she looked. She stopped alongside Daana and folded her arms over her chest as she eyed the crumbled cottage skeptically.

    ¡°He brought us all the way out here so someone could to do his dirty work for him.¡± Daana leaned on the shovel as she spoke. ¡°Usually I¡¯m the sap that gets suckered into it, but the last thing I need is for any more blisters on my hands.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s why Ellie calls you princess. Makes sense now.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    Before Daana could protest further, Ashwyn snatched the shovel out from under her, nearly causing her to fall. ¡°Peaches, those scrawny arms are never going to be more than twigs if you don¡¯t break a sweat now and then. If I¡¯m going to spend the next few months in your company, we¡¯re going to have to work on your survival skills.¡±

    Snag offered Daana his shovel along with a bright, beaming smile. He was wise enough to keep his taunting to the silent variety, forcing Daana to focus on Ashwyn and not him. Daana took the shovel from his claws, grumbling, ¡°Since when is digging a hole considered a survival skill?¡±

    ¡°How else are you going to bury the bodies and your loot?¡± Ashwyn already had a sizable hole underway. Her gaze shifted to Snag as she tossed another shovelful of dirt to the side. ¡°Poor thing doesn¡¯t even have a grasp on the basics. What have the two of you been teaching her?¡±

    ¡°She was nobility before this, you know. We had to start from the ground up. Lying, thieving, cheating, the works.¡±

    ¡°You think those would come natural to a noble.¡±

    ¡°Right? Figures we get caught up with the one morally decent person from the capital.¡±

    Daana struck the blade of her shovel into the ground. ¡°I am not morally decent!¡±

    ¡°Of course not, Peaches. You¡¯re as crooked as they come. We¡¯d be foolish to think otherwise,¡± Ashwyn said. ¡°I, however, feel personally obligated to help speed your downward spiral along. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. As such, we¡¯ll need to polish out your hand-to-hand combat skills, knife work, those sorts of things.¡±

    She was going to receive training? Actual training from Ashwyn Pride, the former scourge of the glass seas? A mercenary, notorious cutthroat, and slightly less successful revolutionist? A strange combination of dread and excitement stirred to life within Daana¡¯s belly. If she was going to survive her new life, it only made sense to learn from one of the best. With her pride temporarily inflated by the prospect, Daana threw her whole concentration into digging the best and fastest hole possible.

    ¡°How the fuck do you do that?¡± Snag said.

    Daana was so consumed with making the best impression, she failed to notice that Ashwyn had retreated out of the way and was now resting against the shovel beside Snag, watching her progress with a satisfied smirk.

    The orc lifted one shoulder, shrugging. ¡°I told you, just gotta make them think it¡¯s their idea.¡±

    Before Daana could come to terms with the fact she¡¯d been duped into doing the majority of the work, her shovel struck something solid with a metal clang!

    ¡°Out of the way! I¡¯ve got it from here.¡± Snag leapt down into the dirt beside her and used his hands to uncover the buried object. Daana climbed out of the hole to give him room to work. A cloud of loose dust bloomed into the air as the goblin made short work of the digging. Moments later, Snag heaved a small chest over the side of the hole. He scrambled out after it, wiping the filth from his clothes.

    ¡°You want to do the honors with that latch there?¡± He looked to Ashwyn expectantly. ¡°Seems to have rusted shut.¡±

    Ashwyn slammed the shovel across the iron latch. The rusted iron held strong, unlike the warped wood sidings, which gave away in a burst of rotted splinters and dirt. The orc¡¯s brow pressed into a firm line as she used the spade to sort through the strange collection of belongings. ¡°Did you, uh, invest all your money in women¡¯s silken undergarments? No judgment. Sorry they didn¡¯t hold up all that well.¡±

    Snag¡¯s ears flattened against the back of his head as he stared at the rotted pile of nightgowns. ¡°Decoy box. This one¡¯s sort of a revenge thing, actually.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    Ellisar came trudging out of the tree line to join them. She stood along the edge of the pit, surveying the unusual collection. ¡°That¡¯s where all my silkies went. And here I thought it was Rali stealing them all these years. Snag, you perv.¡±

    Snag disappeared back into the hole. ¡°I thought maybe all the loud sex would stop if I took her nighties. Jokes on me, though. She just paraded around without ¡®em.¡±

 143 - Melancholic Toad

    Fireflies flickered about, illuminating the gloom like miniature paper lanterns. Miniature paper lanterns that had not only gained sentience, but now possessed the insatiable need to land and procreate on his face. Stupid sentient horny lantern bugs. Snag sat on the edge of the dirt pit, flicking his ears at the humming cloud of insects that refused to bugger off. There was a second, empty wooden chest beside him¨Cits contents now evenly distributed in the various saddlebags hanging from Wormy.

    Snag held a weathered sack no larger than a sock in one gnarled hand. It might have been a sock at one point, given the pungent, mildew stench emitting from its rotted exterior. The years of being buried underground had taken their toll, wearing the fabric so thin, the bag looked to be on the verge of disintegrating. A second smell, peppermint, wafted on the breeze towards him. It clawed its way up his nasal cavities, singeing the individual nose hairs as it burned away any lingering odor of old sock.

    Snag¡¯s reluctant gaze moved from the bag in his hand to the source of the peppermint smell.

    Ellisar lounged in the grass across from him, snatching the unsuspecting bugs that fluttered in the air above her and popping them into her mouth. He hadn¡¯t ever met an elf that did that before. Eating bugs was something reserved only for the lowest of the low¨Csad, despicable creatures like him. Gods, there were times he swore she was more goblin than he was. Maybe that explained why his next move felt so wrong. He wasn¡¯t a grubby, good-for-nothin¡¯ gobby anymore. Somewhere along the way he¡¯d turned into something else. Something unrecognizable even to himself.

    Stop being a melancholic toad and just get it over with!

    ¡°Here.¡± Snag extended the sack in Ellisar¡¯s direction, avoiding direct eye contact. Such unwarranted generosity would have been a cause for concern with the others. Both Oralia and Rali would have suspected ulterior motives and demanded an explanation, keeping at it until he broke. But Ellisar was different. Unlike the other two, she seemed to know that sometimes the best thing to say was nothing at all.

    Too bad this wasn¡¯t one of those times.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± From the corner of his eye, Snag watched as her brow pressed into a flat line. Cautiously, the elf sat upright and accepted his strange offering. Some of the distrust softened from her face when she drew back the opening and peeked inside. ¡°Are you paying me up front so I don¡¯t rob you later? Honestly, Snaggy, I was only planning to skim a few gold pieces when you weren¡¯t looking, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Just take it, alright?¡±

    Ellisar held the sack next to her ear and gave it an experimental shake, listening as the contents clinked together. The fact that the rotted sock held strong was a small marvel on its own. ¡°Did you hide something in here? Is it going to burst into flames the moment I reach my hand inside? No, on second thought, you¡¯re craftier than that. I bet you coated the coins in poison that way my death couldn¡¯t be traced back to you.¡±

    ¡°Since when do you question anything? It¡¯s a free sack of money!¡±

    ¡°Since when do you hand out free sacks of money?¡± she countered with one silvery eyebrow raised higher than the other.

    Drat. It looked like he had some explaining to do, after all. But why? Why couldn¡¯t she just blindly accept the gift? It was money, not one of the many beverages he¡¯d offered her laced with his own spit. Ellisar never questioned those. Not even after he told her what was in them.

    ¡°It¡¯s not mine. I¡¯d kept all the bet money I ever won from¡­¡± The name died on his tongue. With a shake of his head, Snag adjusted his posture and looked away. Nope, nope, nope. He was going to keep it together. No more of this tearing up over circumstances he couldn¡¯t change crap. ¡°I planned to give it to Curly as a leg up for when we got disbanded. Not a lot of good it¡¯s going to do anyone lying buried under the ground out here.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Well fuck. How am I supposed to spend it knowing where it came from?¡±

    The pressure of tears built behind Snag¡¯s eyes. Nope, nope, nope! Keep it together, you limp pussy willow. You¡¯re supposed to be a mean, scary goblin. Start actin¡¯ like it!

    Try as he might, his voice still came out rather pathetic. ¡°Because it¡¯s what he would have wanted.¡±

    Ellisar tilted her head in the direction of Daana and Ashwyn. Snag¡¯s gaze followed. The orc appeared to be attempting to teach Daana some sort of game that involved keeping a little baggie of sand from hitting the ground using only her foot. Daana was, as expected, not very good at it. It didn¡¯t seem to deter her, though. She kept at it, laughing each time she missed a kick by an embarrassing lead.

    Ellisar said, ¡°What Curly would have wanted was to blow it all on that little elf princess over there.¡±

    A fleeting smile pulled at his mouth as some of the pressure in his eyes receded. ¡°Gods, it would have been gone in a fortnight. He was far too generous for his own good. Don¡¯t know where he learned it.¡±

    ¡°Says the goblin giving me a sack of money.¡±

    ¡°Just take it!¡± Snag added, shrinking back down, ¡°Please.¡±

    Ellisar stared at the money bag for longer than any proper thief should have. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, she said, ¡°I know you¡¯re planning to ditch us. Probably the whole reason you dragged me out here. Thought you could make me feel bad one last time. But it ain¡¯t happening. I¡¯m not taking your money unless you agree to come with us.¡±

    This managed to distract him from shoving the feelings back down inside of himself. Snag¡¯s nose scrunched in disdain, left ear twitching as if it had a will of its own. ¡°You want me to retire with you and your wife? What, do I get a little bed shoved in a cupboard somewhere? My own water dish? Some old parchment put down in the corner, maybe?¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Did you just make a pet joke? Horror gripped Snag at the realization. The maggot would be pickled pink if he¡¯d heard you right now. No, wait. Pickled is not the right word. Tortured! Yeah, tortured pink sounds right. Gonna torture Rasp pink next time I see him for teaching me all these idioms backwards.

    Overhead, the sparse treetops rattled together. Patches of star speckled skyscape peeked through the bare branches, like a living tapestry. The earthy stink of forest rot and sprouted fungi carried on the cool breeze, intermixing with the aromas of peppermint and wet sock in a way that didn¡¯t make his current situation any easier to stomach.

    ¡°We¡¯re not retiring,¡± Ellisar grumbled. ¡°Not yet, anyway. The wife volunteered us to deliver the palace brat back to her mother.¡±

    ¡°But you said Daana¡¯s mother was de¨C¡± he cut himself off as he whipped his head at her, earrings jangling together like windchimes in a gusty breeze. ¡°You dickhead! I should have known you were lying through your teeth this whole time.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all a lie. That¡¯s how you make it convincing. You sprinkle a little truth over the fib sandwich.¡±

    ¡°And what part of it was true then, huh?¡±

    ¡°I told you who her mother was, didn¡¯t I? Mentioned she was a bitch. That was all true.¡±

    Snag narrowed his eyes at her, nostrils wrinkled around the edges, as he attempted to peer past her jaded exterior. There was more Ellisar wasn¡¯t saying. Try as she might, she couldn¡¯t quite hide the extent of her discomfort. It showed in the lines around her eyes and the way she held her mouth locked tight, not even bothering to make one of her deeply disturbing innuendos to keep him off her scent.

    ¡°You and the mother have got history, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Obviously. If it weren¡¯t for her stupid revolution, Ashwyn and I would be retired by now. Feet kicked up on some beach somewhere, basking in the sunset, licking mushroom powder off the flavor-of-the-day¡¯s naked skin.¡±

    Ah, there it was¨Cthe innuendo. A rather weak one as far Ellisar went. Snag didn¡¯t even feel the usual urge to throw up. Whatever had El off her game tonight was eating away at her like maggots on putrid flesh. ¡°Nah, not that. I meant like history-history.¡± Snag titled his head at her, squinting harder than before, as if this would help bring the missing details into focus. Just made everything kind of blurry though. ¡°You running from something, El?¡±

    ¡°How in chaos did you get that from¨C¡± Ellisar snapped the words back into her mouth before she revealed too much. She willed her face back to its natural state of painfully blank. ¡°We¡¯ve spent entirely too much time together. I shouldn¡¯t be this transparent to anybody.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to part ways, don¡¯t you think? Gonna be hard to keep lying to yourself if I¡¯m there to call you on your bullshit.¡±

    ¡°I mean, if that¡¯s the worst you¡¯re throwing my way, I¡¯d still rather have you.¡±

    Snag¡¯s mouth snapped shut as something on the inside of his chest did an obnoxious little tumble.

    ¡°Come on, Snaggy.¡± Ellisar bumped him with her shoulder in a manner not nearly hard enough to knock him over lip of the dirt pit. ¡°Tag along with us. You barely scraped by the last time you tried to go it alone. And don¡¯t mistake this for a pity invitation, either. I need you. This group needs your chaotic neutral balance, else the two goody-two-shoes are going to drive me over the fucking edge.¡±

    As much as Snag detested the idea of waltzing willfully into the open jaws of danger, the feeling of being wanted was an addiction unmatched by any other. Not that he was going to admit that. Still, a nice feeling all the same. ¡°You got a destination in mind?¡±

    ¡°Flatlands.¡±

    ¡°Oh. The other place where there¡¯s an active bounty for my head. Lovely.¡±

    ¡°I also kind of need a guide. I know the waterways around the area, but the land itself is a bit fuzzy. The few times I went ashore, I was usually high out of my gourd with a crew to steer me in the right direction.¡±

    There it was. The real reason she wanted him to tag along. Ellisar didn¡¯t want one last adventure with a friend, she needed a schmuck who was familiar with the territory. Story of his fucking life. Snag¡¯s ears flattened against the back of his head as he decided against calling her out for being such a predictable asshole. ¡°How are you even alive right now? Like, seriously? With the amount of time you spend as an intoxicated puddle, you should have walked off a cliff by now! Or been sold out to the enemy. Or-or drowned in a big vat of, I don¡¯t know, your own juices or something.¡±

    ¡°Am I ham? Why am I secreting enough juices to fill a vat?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! Just like I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ve managed to live this long!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know either, Snag. Just do what I do, chalk it up to one of the great mysteries of the universe and move on.¡±

    Snag was now so thoroughly confused he couldn¡¯t remember what it was he was mad about. Hams, maybe? That didn¡¯t seem right. He racked his brain for the answer, but it was no use. The fire in his belly was gone, already replaced by a sinking sensation that threatened to swallow him whole. He blamed it on the rabbit, of course. Concluding that Daana¡¯s dinner must have gone rancid in his stomach.

    Ellisar mistook Snag¡¯s silence for an invitation to continue, and set about drawing a crude map into the upturned soil with her finger. ¡°If we keep riding south, we¡¯ll cross the Castle Bay border into Hallowbac by tomorrow evening. The ports up there aren¡¯t as closely monitored. I should be able to barter our way onto a ship.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going by sea?¡± He felt the lovely green color drain from his face.

    ¡°Since when are you afraid of water?¡±

    ¡°First of all, it¡¯s not the water I¡¯m afraid of. It¡¯s what happens when the boat runs out of water and hits the reef along the coast that I¡¯m not comfortable with. Secondly, trapped in a small, enclosed space without any chance of escape is essentially the culmination of my worst nightmares. So, thanks, but no thanks. You¡¯ll have to make do without me.¡±

    Ellisar considered this a moment. Having reached a verdict, she raised her left shoulder in a cavalier shrug. ¡°If that¡¯s your decision.¡±

    He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s a good one. I¡¯m not trying to talk you out of it.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she agreed, standing. Ellisar stretched her long limbs high over her head before starting off towards the others. ¡°I want to find us somewhere a little more comfortable to bed down before dawn. If we¡¯re parting ways, be sure you say your goodbyes to the princess while you still have the chance.¡±

    ¡°I will, because I¡¯m not an asshole who up and leaves without any thought to how it affects anyone else.¡± He pulled his arms tighter over his chest. ¡°Including you, by the way. So don¡¯t you even think about riding off into the trees before I¡¯ve had a chance to smack you upside the head one last time.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. You¡¯re destined to run into me and Ashwyn again eventually.¡±

    ¡°And what makes you think I won¡¯t see Daana again?¡±

    Ellisar looked over her shoulder and smiled. It was an awful, terrifying look that sent panic rocketing to the pit of his stomach.

    Snag¡¯s ears flared as he considered the many different ways Ellisar¡¯s words could be interpreted. And then realization struck and he shot upright, scrambling after her. ¡°What the fuck, El! Do you mean goodbye or final goodbye? It¡¯s the second one, isn¡¯t it? Seven realms, you¡¯re a sick fuck!¡±

 144 - A Sweet Moment

    For the other diners gathered in the great hall, the evening meal was a welcomed reprieve from watered down cabbage soup and expired trail rations. For Oralia, it was an overpowering cacophony of competing smells. The rich aroma of the meat and gravy pies battled for supremacy against the sulfuric punch of the garlic roasted brussel sprouts. Every now and then she caught a whiff of the honey glazed yams from the far side of the table. All three overpowering notes paired together in the same way week old fish complimented rotten banana peels at the bottom of the waste bin.

    To make matters worse, Sascha was being extra attentive. Food was his passion and he insisted on sharing it with those he cared about. Oralia had lost track of the number of times he¡¯d served a small portion of something onto her plate, insisting she try it with a pinch of this, or a drizzle of that. Caught up in his excitement, he¡¯d attempted to feed her from his own fork on more than one occasion. A firmly set brow was all that was necessary to remind him that she was not an infant and was perfectly capable of handling the task herself.

    Unfortunately, tonight her lover appeared to be suffering from a short term memory dysfunction. From the corner of her eye, Oralia saw a food laden fork start to edge in her direction. It took damn near all of her willpower not to grab it and stab the offending utensil into the tabletop. ¡°Sweetheart.¡± The word was laced with equal parts sticky sweet adoration and venom. ¡°If that fork comes any nearer, it is going across the room.¡±

    Her expression added, ¡®and I might send you with it¡¯.

    ¡°But you¡¯ve barely touched your plate. Is something the matter?¡±

    ¡°Just tired.¡± Ignoring the sideways glance she received from Rali, Oralia retrieved the dinner fork from the long line of meticulously arranged silverware and used it to stir the food on her plate into an unrecognizable pile of slop. There. It was touched. After all, Sascha had said nothing about it being eaten. And no, in this situation she was definitely not being a pedantic child. This was a perfectly mature response to a situation she had no desire to partake in.

    Oralia¡¯s fingertips drummed against the linen tablecloth as she eyed the sealed double doors, debating whether to sit and suffer in silence or attempt a hasty getaway. Leaving the table early would be rude, undoubtedly, but it wasn¡¯t like she had anything to lose. Her participation in New Adderwood had been strictly volunteer-based. They couldn¡¯t withhold her pay if they weren¡¯t paying her anything to begin with.

    Yes. It was decided. She was doing it.

    Oralia jumped when a heavy hand settled on her leg from beneath the table. Sascha gave a gentle squeeze, managing to do so without breaking from the argument he was having with the Stoneclaw brothers regarding the rules to whatever drinking game they were attempting to rope him into. Oralia did not miss the fleeting smile that curled over his mouth as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

    The fucker was on to her! This was the trouble with having a partner. She and Sascha were on even footing now. She couldn¡¯t simply do as she pleased anymore, including ditching the dinner party thrown in her honor.

    Perhaps this is why she had always surrounded herself with the derelicts of society. Their constant swirl of chaos had made her own uncouth tendencies appear reasonable in comparison. Her faithful four also wouldn¡¯t have objected to her cutting out early. Seven realms, they would have thought of it first, prompting her to follow under the excuse that she needed to address the behavior in private. Gods, what she would give for one of their elaborate heists right now.

    A smile flickered across her face as she recalled the midsummer eve disaster. The palace had spared no expense. There were tables upon tables of exquisite foods, hundreds of guests dressed in their finest. Oralia had tucked herself in the corner, trading words with some windbag in red and gold tights, when a disturbance from the servant¡¯s entrance allowed her a convenient excuse to cut the conversation short. She¡¯d navigated her way through the thickest part of the crowd in time to see Ellisar race across the dance floor, struggling to see around the seven layer cake she¡¯d lifted from the kitchen. Rali and Curly had not been far behind, both lugging a crate of alcohol each. Even reluctant Snag had been talked into serving as the lookout. He had the side entrance door opened and shut behind them before the nobles could clutch their pearls and wail on about the ongoing deterioration of society.

    It was the last time the realm figureheads insisted Oralia¡¯s team make a public appearance. When she found her faithful four again, they¡¯d lit a bonfire in one of the back gardens and had a chair and a generous slice of cake waiting for her. They did not succeed in getting her drunk, nor changing her mind about the copious amounts of public service each would be serving the following morning. But for the remainder of the night, bathed in firelight beneath the stars, she¡¯d let her mask slip, allowing herself to enjoy their company not as their commander, but as an equally complicit member of the team.

    The hand resting just above Oralia¡¯s knee squeezed again. Around her, the dancing fire and star speckled sky faded away. Oralia found herself in a drab, musty smelling banquet hall once more. Her heart suddenly weighed twice what it did before. Her hand slipped under the table and threaded her fingers though Sascha¡¯s as the heaviness threatened to bubble over. The warmth of his hand reminded her that no matter what, she would get through the evening in one piece. And then, after it was all said and done, she could drift asleep in the crook of his arm while he lamented over how badly Mul and Lingon cheated at drinking games.

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    Gesticulating movement from the other end of the table caught her wandering attention. An elf, slender with blonde, feathered hair, waved a breadstick in the air. With one foot planted in her chair, she struck a heroic pose, enrapturing the rest of the gathering with an impractical tale of heroism. The logical inaccuracies of her account were wasted on the Adderwood attendees, who sat forward in their seats hanging on each word like dogs begging for scraps.

    ¡°¨CI¡¯m outnumbered ten to one, but I can smell the fear wafting from their scurvy hides. So I says, ¡®take another step at me, buckos, an¡¯ the lot of ya will be walking the plank!¡¯¡±

    Oralia leaned closer to Rali. ¡°Why is the Ellisar-stand-in talking like a pirate?¡±

    Rali pushed a chunk of steamed carrot back and forth through a pool of congealed gravy with a sigh. ¡°I thought it would make me feel better.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s heart sank a little more. The stand-ins for Ellisar and Snag had been a matter of practicality. So long as Geralt continued to receive reports that her faithful were working alongside her, he would have no reason to be looking for them in his own territory. Unlike Snag¡¯s stand-in, the elf selected for Ellisar was practically identical in appearance. So much so, Oralia had begun to question if Ellisar had conveniently forgotten to mention the daughter she¡¯d abandoned at birth.

    An actress by trade, Kalihn was enthralling to watch as she dazzled starry-eyed audiences with farfetched yarns. Rali insisted she was entirely too likable to pass for the real thing.

    Oralia asked Rali, ¡°Did it?¡±

    ¡°Did it what?¡±

    ¡°Did it make you feel better?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Rali dropped her fork with muffled clatter, gesturing with her hands while fighting to keep her voice above a harsh whisper. ¡°It¡¯s like they don¡¯t even notice. Look at ¡®em. They¡¯re all fawning over her like she¡¯s some la-di-da dandyess. It¡¯s unnatural. Ellisar¡¯s supposed to be off-putting. That¡¯s her whole thing!¡±

    Oralia debated whether or not to reach over and pat the top of the dwarf¡¯s head in the most patronizing manner possible. It would lead to an altercation, possibly even missing fingers, but that seemed just the sort of distraction they both desperately needed. Before Oralia could lift her hand, Sascha leaned over her, murmuring, ¡°Does anyone else notice the captain staring rather intently in our direction?¡±

    Oralia¡¯s stare darted across the clustered table, inadvertently locking eyes with Captain Bernstein. The dwarf captain hastily dropped his gaze into his cup, shoulders shrinking as his heavily bearded face reddened with embarrassment.

    ¡°I think he was looking at you, Rali,¡± Sascha said.

    ¡°Like chaos he was!¡± This disturbance came from the other side of Sascha. Oralia heard the telltale squeak of wooden chair legs as Mul leapt to his feet, slamming his fist to the table. ¡°You ogling my Pickle, boyo?¡±

    ¡°I-uh,¡± Captain Bernstein stammered into his cup.

    ¡°What? You think she¡¯s just some fine strip of meat you can rub your eyeballs all up and down without any respect for her say in the matter?¡±

    ¡°Dear gods, no. Of course not.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Mul cocked his shaggy head to the side. ¡°Why? My Pickle not pretty enough for you? I¡¯ll have you know Rali¡¯s as beautiful as a fresh picked daisy in moonlight. You do not merely ogle her beauty, you worship it! You fall on your knees and thank it for gracing your otherwise dim, colorless life with even a glimpse of perfection.¡±

    ¡°Mulberry Stoneclaw,¡± Oralia groaned, ¡°sit down. You are drunk.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m drunk on love, boss,¡± he slurred, slumping back into his chair. ¡°It can¡¯t be helped. I¡¯m not a man who bottles my feelings, you know.¡±

    ¡°A light stabbing might help with that!¡± Rali called from between the pair of hands she was desperately trying to disappear behind.

    The whole table lurched as Mul leaned out across it, waggling his bushy eyebrows at her suggestively. ¡°You can give me the ol¡¯ thrust and jab whenever you like, Pickle. I¡¯m no prude. Not like the Cap¡¯n here.¡±

    Rali was suddenly not the only dwarf at the table burying their face into their hands. Poor Captain Bernstein looked to be slowly melting lower and lower into his chair. At this rate, he¡¯d be puddled across the floor by dessert.

    ¡°Forget prude,¡± Rali thundered. ¡°You¡¯re about to be a corpse, bucko!¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯d make me the happiest corpse alive!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be dead!¡±

    ¡°Exactly. I¡¯d die happy.¡±

    It may not have been as grand as the summer solstice cake heist, but it was something. Oralia sat back and allowed the chaos to unfold as her team threw increasingly disturbing sentiments back and forth at one another. She watched the rest of the gathering, fighting the pleased smile that threatened to cross her carefully guarded face. Judging from the council¡¯s horrified expressions, she and her team would not be asked to stay on after this. Such a shame.

    Caught up in her euphoria, Oralia even accepted a bite from Sascha¡¯s fork without thinking. The honey glazed yams melted on her tongue as she came to terms with the fact that it was quite possibly the best thing she had ever tasted. A sweet bite for a sweet moment, because without a doubt, this would be the last time she was ever asked to suffer through another honorary feast again.

 145 - Negotiation Knife

    Remarkably, Rali and Mul¡¯s increasingly nonsensical back-and-forth yelling match failed to get either ejected from the feast prematurely. The pair continued their passionate exchange well into the final dessert course. One slung heartfelt longings while the other settled for simply slinging whatever foodstuff could be used as projectiles, until the wine finally got the better of Mul. From there, the object of his declarations of adoration switched from Rali to the generous slice of almond cake piled on his plate. Oralia¡¯s end of the table fell notably quiet after that.

    It wasn¡¯t until Adderwood¡¯s new head of agriculture passed out face-first in his dessert plate that the dinner officially came to a close. A pair of attendees shuffled past, ushering their drunk companion towards the double doorway. The soused fellow still had bits of clotted cream clinging to his beard like fluffy snow. A ruddy-faced council member stood at the far end of the table and called for the attention of those gathered. After thanking all for their attendance, he wished a goodnight to anyone not asked to stay for the impromptu council meeting afterwards.

    Dirty snakes, Oralia thought. The councilor¡¯s closing statement confirmed what she had suspected from the start. The honorary dinner had been a ruse all along¨Can unclever way to strongarm Oralia into attending another one of their dull meetings without having to hunt her down first. Unfortunately for them, she had come prepared with a decision in hand. The only downside was that she had to be regretfully present in order to deliver it.

    Rali nudged Oralia from beneath the table with her knee. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this? We could just run and skip town. Say the word, and I¡¯ll have the horses saddled and ready.¡±

    ¡°It is one council meeting,¡± Oralia replied. ¡°I have survived many before it. Just as I will this one.¡±

    ¡°No offense, but it¡¯s not the surviving part that¡¯s got me worried, boss. It¡¯s the part where they play on your delicate sensibilities and talk you into staying long term.¡±

    ¡°That has never happened before.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, ¡®cause of me.¡± Rali¡¯s cheeky grin widened at Oralia¡¯s resulting glare. ¡°We both know full well I¡¯m the only reason we¡¯ve ever walked away from the negotiation table unscathed.¡±

    ¡°Then you will be relieved to hear that this is not a negotiation. I have my answer and I will not be swayed from it.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright, fine. At least take my negotiation knife in case you run into trouble.¡±

    Oralia looked at the ceiling as she massaged the persistent ache from her temples. ¡°The fact that you have a negotiation knife says everything I do not need to.¡±

    ¡°What it¡¯s saying is ¡®gee, thank gods my second in command is here to cover my ill prepared ass¡¯.¡± The dwarf drew back her jacket, revealing an ornamental dagger strapped to her hip. ¡°Come on now, admit it. You want my little lovely here. Better yet, you want me and the knife. A little added insurance that you don¡¯t accidently sell our souls to another well-meaning empire can¡¯t hurt, you know.¡±

    The audacity of her former lieutenant. It was as if Rali held no confidence in Oralia¡¯s ability to say ¡®no¡¯ whatsoever. There was an immediate way to prove the dwarf wrong on that account. ¡°Thank you, but no,¡± Oralia said. ¡°There is no need for you to die of boredom for my sake.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what the knife was for, boss. Thought I¡¯d make things interesting.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s gaze shifted from Rali to Sascha, who seemed to be having some difficulty keeping his balance. The fact that he had a Stoneclaw brother on either side of him pulling in opposite directions did not seem to be helping. ¡°Walk Sascha home for me instead?¡± Oralia asked. ¡°I think Mul and Lingon finally succeeded in drinking him under the table.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ¡®cause they¡¯re dirty, rotten cheaters!¡± Sascha slurred, trying to shrug off the pair of giggling parasites currently latched to either arm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, boss, we got this! We¡¯ll get him home and tuck him in bed nice n¡¯ cozy for you,¡± Lingon called, trying to drag Sascha out the door with him. The slender man succeeded only in walking in place as the worn tread of his boots slipped uselessly against the polished wood for traction.

    ¡°See?¡± Rali shrugged. ¡°The dingleberries have it handled.¡±

    ¡°The last time Sascha was left drunk in their care unsupervised, the brothers took turns playing horsy in the courtyard,¡± Oralia said. She still didn¡¯t know how they¡¯d gotten the saddle on Sascha without losing an arm in the process, but it was a sight that haunted her memory more often than she cared to admit. Sascha was so far gone he had no memory of the incident. She insisted on keeping it that way, threatening all manner of bodily harm any time either Mul or Lingon so much as whinnied in her presence.

    ¡°Lightweight,¡± Rali scoffed.

    They traded equally severe looks until Oralia was forced to concede the effort was a losing battle. She dropped her scowl in favor of something more beseeching, possibly even pitiful. If Oralia¡¯s vulnerability didn¡¯t appeal to Rali¡¯s soft side, it would at the very least make her want to crawl out of her skin. ¡°For me? Please? As a friend?¡±

    The noise Rali uttered from between her tightly clenched teeth bordered on feral.

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    ¡°I will not be long,¡± Oralia said. ¡°I promise.¡±

    ¡°Damn you and those puppy-dog eyes.¡± With a huff, Rali stood and whirled about, seizing charge of the deteriorating situation behind them with a deafening clap of her hands. ¡°Alright buckos, we¡¯re out of here. I want to see some gusto, hup-two-three-four, hup-two-three-four, on my mark, go!¡±

    Oralia¡¯s team stumbled out into the adjoining hallways after slurring their goodbyes. The last of the plates were whisked from the table, the double doors closed, and she found herself surrounded by a host of mildly drunk, exuberant faces. One of the older, stuffy looking dwarfs cleared his throat and looked expectantly in her direction. He steepled his hands onto the table and flashed what he mistook for an inviting smile. ¡°Madam Protector¨C¡±

    ¡°Oralia,¡± she corrected. ¡°And, if I may, counselor, I would like to precede your meeting with an announcement.¡±

    They appeared genuinely surprised by this, but no one objected. Oralia¡¯s gaze dropped to the table, realizing the reason for this may have been due to the ornamental dagger resting where her plate used to be.

    It may not have been the best look, but it was far too late to backpedal now. Oralia placed her hand over the knife and casually swept it into her lap, grateful that Rali had at least left it in its gilded scabbard. ¡°As you all are aware, my team and I have spent the last two months helping your forces uproot the previous realm stranglehold from your territory. It is my pleasure to announce that yesterday¡¯s settlement was also the last. With the exception of a few remaining stragglers along the border, the realm no longer has an active presence in your territory.¡±

    Had there been a chalice in front of her, this was the moment Oralia would have lifted it in celebration. Unfortunately the only immediate item at her disposal was the damn dagger and brandishing a blade above her head seemed like it would send the wrong message. Thus, she settled for a forced smile. ¡°Let me be the first to congratulate New Adderwood on its independence.¡±

    The dingy room burst to life with a round of cheers as the more unruly members of the council stomped the floor and pounded the wood table with their fists. Oralia allowed the excited murmurs to go on for no more than a minute before moving on to her actual announcement, swiftly so, in the event one of the others tried to wrangle the floor out from under her. ¡°As you all know, my position here was strictly on a volunteer basis. You needed a familiar name to unite your cause and I lent you mine. Now that New Adderwood¡¯s independence is secured, it is time for me to step down and move on.¡±

    This did not land quite as well as her congratulatory line about independence. The cheering and hearty pats on the back faded as the gathering slowly came to grips with the fact that their senior military consultant had wasted absolutely no time issuing her official resignation. It was their own blasted fault, Oralia told herself. Had they not pushed so persistently for a council meeting immediately upon her arrival, she would have at least given them a few days to enjoy their independence before crushing their hopes of keeping her on permanently.

    Several council members clustered together at one end of the table, whispering fervently amongst themselves. It was Captain Almas Bernstein who broke the stunned silence, appearing even more dejected than he had during dinner. ¡°You¡¯re leaving so soon?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°And your team?¡±

    ¡°Free to do as they wish, as always,¡± Oralia replied. Unfortunately for him, there was a good chance the team member Captain Bernstein was particularly interested in had already climbed the city gate and was striking out on her own, swearing off friends and lovers alike for good. At least until Rali remembered traveling was much easier via pony and grudgingly returned to retrieve it.

    The dwarf captain sat straighter in his chair. ¡°Would it be out of line of me to offer a position to certain members of¨C¡±

    ¡°Enough, Almas,¡± a senior member of the council groaned. ¡°Give someone else a turn.¡±

    One of the others piped up with, ¡°Have you given any thought to what you plan to do next, Madam, er, Oralia?¡±

    Did planning to sneak away into the night the moment the meeting was over count? While Oralia was certain it did, it was also not the answer they wanted to hear. ¡°Not as of yet, no.¡±

    She regretted her poor choice of words immediately as the faces gathered around the table brightened at the prospect. The ruddy-cheeked dwarf at the far end of the table designated himself the unofficial spokesperson for the table once more. ¡°The council understands your prior reasons for wanting to remain on a volunteer basis, but making a permanent alignment with the New Adderwood Republic known would provide you protection. We are more than ready to offer you a full time position.¡±

    ¡°As I stated before, my presence here is only to help straighten some of the upset caused by my untimely withdrawal from the United Territories.¡± Untimely withdrawal sounded so much better than treason. They were both technically correct, but Oralia preferred the former for obvious reasons.

    It had taken only a matter of weeks after the battle on Mount Hook for the tales of her treachery to reach the capital. Geralt had done his best to paint her as the villain, but he¡¯d underestimated the consequences it would have on the country. The outer territories had been in turmoil even before Oralia changed sides. For decades, the Division of Divination had been raiding their communities, tearing apart families, and stepping all over the local government¡¯s toes.

    Oralia¡¯s desertion was all it took for the outer territories to follow her lead, declaring their independence from the current regime. Adderwood was the first to descend into open rebellion. Hallowbac soon followed and there were whispers that Mossborn was not far behind. Suddenly lacking an experienced military head, the realm was openly struggling to keep its remaining pieces intact.

    Oralia had not intended to get caught up in another war, but she did feel partially responsible. And, anyway, it offered her the chance to forget about her own personal predicament. It really said something about her situation that she opted to throw herself into a rebellion as a means of distraction. Permanent employment by the newly formed independent territory, however, was a step too far even for her. With New Adderwood¡¯s independence temporarily secured, it was time to move on.

    Where exactly, she had no idea. Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely true. She at least knew where she didn¡¯t want to be. ¡°Council members,¡± Oralia said, interrupting what was probably meant to be an irresistible offer of which she conveniently heard not a single word, ¡°thank you for the lovely evening, but it is well past time for me to retire. My decision on the matter is final. Goodnight.¡±

    With that said, she stood and strode for the entrance, wondering if she¡¯d meant retire for the night or from her current life path completely. It was a wondrous, terrifying thought. One that fortunately could wait until the morrow when she didn¡¯t have a splitting headache.

 146 - Into The Fire

    The worn floorboards creaked underfoot as Oralia navigated the long hallway of the Copperstone Inn. She glimpsed the dark night sky from a passing window as she turned the final corner towards her room. It was well past midnight, judging from the position of the stars. The inn was blessedly quiet, with the majority of its guests having fallen asleep hours ago. The tantalizing visions of a soft bed and warm fire drifted through her mind as she reached the last room at the end of the long hall.

    The tarnished handle turned when she gripped it, but the door itself refused to budge. Oralia tried again to no avail. So much for sneaking in quietly. Stifling a roar, she put her shoulder to the wood and shoved with all her might. The stubborn, paint-chipped door held fast for only a second before swinging open with a groaning protest. Rubbing the soreness from her shoulder, Oralia trudged inside, depositing her jacket onto the powder blue, high back chair as she passed.

    Her current living quarters constituted a generous sized suite, complete with a cozy breakfast nook, sitting area, fireplace, and a private bathroom that housed its own, woefully undersized, copper tub. Currently, her quarters smelled strongly of cedar embers and smoke. There was an additional scent as well¨Cstrong, like pine, but with faint undertones of stale beer. While the aroma was familiar to her, it did not belong in the privacy of her bedroom.

    ¡°Ralizak?¡± Oralia called, scouring the room for the source of the scent. The candles were unlit, but the smoldering fire highlighted the apartment in a warm, red-orange glow.

    ¡°The conquering orc hath returned!¡± Rali¡¯s drowsy voice hailed from one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting area.

    ¡°Why are you still here?¡± Oralia hadn¡¯t meant it to sound rude, but it came out that way regardless. At the moment, all she wanted to do was leave her trousers in a pile on the floor and pull Sascha into bed with her. And while this was certainly doable with Rali in the room, she feared she wouldn¡¯t find it nearly as restful with the dwarf watching.

    ¡°And stay awake all night tossing and turning, wondering what sort of trouble you got us talked into? Nah.¡± Rali popped up over the back of the chair situated strategically in front of the glowing embers. The dwarf rested her chin in her hands and smiled. ¡°Besides, someone had to stay and keep an eye on your fuckmate. Make sure no one tried to sneak in and take him for a nice gallop around the courtyard.¡±

    Sascha was sprawled across the couch catty corner to Rali. There was a book resting over his face. His voice emitted from beneath the pages at a weak groan. ¡°I am her Sunflower, thank you. And I have no idea what the galloping part was referring to, but I am not a child. I need no watching.¡±

    ¡°You held a twenty minute conversation with the coat rack, bucko.¡±

    ¡°Need no watching,¡± he reiterated with a low rumble.

    ¡°Keep telling yourself that, Sunflower. Whatever makes you feel better.¡± Some of the smile slipped from Rali¡¯s face as her attention switched back to Oralia. ¡°Well don¡¯t leave me waiting in suspense forever. How¡¯d the war council go?¡±

    Oralia¡¯s stare shifted to the small breakfast table, noticing the ominous stack of loose papers awaiting her. ¡°I would not know. I am not involved in any wars.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, we¡¯ve all heard your spiel,¡± Rali said. ¡°Let¡¯s skip to the part that involves us. How many more realm nests did you agree to flush out before we can call our volunteer work here done for good?¡±

    Oralia dropped into the wooden chair beside the table and slumped uncomfortably low. She pressed her fingertips against her forehead and massaged the aching flesh with slow, deep circles. ¡°Yesterday¡¯s settlement was the last. There are no more nests to be flushed.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it then? Our part¡¯s done?¡± Sascha jetted upright, uncaring of the open book that spilled from his face and tumbled to the ground. His sable eyes were large and rimmed in white, looking nearly as hopeful as he sounded. ¡°We can actually retire now?¡±

    ¡°Ha! Come on, Sunflower. Don¡¯t be so naive. You know they had to have offered her a position. The real question is whether or not it was good enough to get her to bite.¡±

    Even now, after everything they¡¯d accomplished together, Rali seemed to believe Oralia was incapable of putting her foot down when she wanted to. Ordinarily Oralia would have turned the overt lack of faith into an argument, but she was simply too exhausted to put up a fight. She sank lower in the chair, sighing, ¡°They did. I refused.¡±

    Sascha rolled his head back and thundered, ¡°We¡¯re finished. Finally!¡±

    Oralia winced as the surrounding walls protested Sascha¡¯s volume with a rattle. ¡°There is still the matter of deciding where we go from here, but yes. We are finished.¡±

    The rest of Rali¡¯s smile drained from her weary face. It wasn¡¯t merely exhaustion that had sapped her of her usual charm and wit. Oralia saw worry weighing heavy within her dark eyes. ¡°You know I¡¯m not one to volunteer us for more work,¡± the dwarf said. ¡°But before we make any life altering decisions, you might want to have a look at those papers first.¡±

    ¡°If it is another call-to-arms from Larkspur, I am not reading it.¡±

    ¡°Worse than that, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    Reluctantly, Oralia sat straighter and reached for the yellowed pages. Wanted posters, she realized, as she leafed through the stack. Each page consisted of a brief description, a crudely inked portrait of the outlaw in question, and the promised amount for their eventual capture. The face on the third page caused Oralia¡¯s steady hand to falter. Blinking back the hurt, she separated Curly¡¯s poster from the others and placed it facedown, away from her.

    Surely the realm already knew of his death. Oralia wondered if they kept printing his likeness simply as a means to torment her.

    Rali¡¯s dark eyes moved from the lone sheet back to Oralia, explaining, ¡°Captain Bernstein gave me the stack before dinner. A patrol found them posted along the border near Mossborn. He thought they¡¯d make good souvenirs.¡±

    ¡°Are you upset that they depicted you with a monobrow? Or that Ellisar¡¯s bounty is worth more than yours?¡±

    ¡°Both, actually. Thanks for noticing. Not why I showed them to you, though. Take a gander at the last page.¡±

    Oralia flipped through once more to the end. She studied the portrait as confusion wrinkled across her brow. ¡°They put out a bounty for Faris?¡±

    ¡°Reward, not bounty. Apparently we kidnapped the little sprout and held him against his will. The money is to ensure he¡¯s found and freed of our oppression,¡± Rali paraphrased from memory. ¡°Check the amount. He¡¯s worth twice what they¡¯re willing to fork over for the rest of us. With the stipulation that he must be returned to the capital alive.¡±

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    ¡°We did not abduct Faris. He went home.¡±

    ¡°Well obviously we know that.¡±

    Oralia sat quiet for a moment as she considered what this was supposed to be telling her. A thought flickered in the back of her overworked brain and she shuffled back through the stack of posters. A second and third check confirmed her suspicions. ¡°There¡¯s no bounty on Rasp. Not even an honorary mention. Why would they go to the effort to list his brothers but not him? He is the one they really want.¡±

    In the four months since the battle on Mount Hook, the stories of what took place grew more far-fetched and fantastical with each retelling. The cursed mountain folk heir, Rasp Stoneclaw, was rumored to have obliterated an entire realm army, his own people, sometimes a dragon, and¨Caccording to the latest version of the tale¨Cthe undead army of the seventh realm of chaos itself. Virtually overnight, Rasp had unwittingly become the most wanted witch on the entire continent. Geralt Lazuli and the Division of Divination had exhausted their combined resources tearing the realm apart looking for him. Oralia herself had not heard from either Rasp nor Whisper. The lack of communication was intentional, she suspected. If no one, not even their allies, knew of their whereabouts, the pair could weather the oncoming storm undisturbed.

    ¡°Geralt¡¯s figured out what the rest of us already knew,¡± Rali explained. ¡°If there¡¯s one person capable of drawing Rasp out of hiding, it¡¯s Faris. I think this is Geralt¡¯s attempt to find him before we caught on.¡±

    ¡°Have there been any communications from Faris?¡± Oralia knew he had returned home to Lonebrook, but that was the extent of her knowledge on the matter.

    ¡°Not a peep, actually.¡±

    The page crumpled in Oralia¡¯s tightly clenched hand as her mind raced with possibilities. Here she thought she¡¯d been the one distracting Geralt Lazuli but, as usual, the snake had been working his own angle. Geralt didn¡¯t want her, nor her people, not as badly as he wanted Rasp. Oralia¡¯s head amounted to little more than a trophy to be mounted on a stake. She was a nuisance, yes, but incapable of leveling an entire city without an army. Rasp was the real prize. And, somehow, someway, Geralt had discovered the key to getting exactly what he wanted.

    ¡°Faris¡¯s last known whereabouts was Lonebrook,¡± Oralia said. Home would have been the first place Geralt went looking for him. The evidence of the posters, however, suggested Faris was no longer there. The question then became: where had he gone?

    ¡±Have we received any news from the area?¡± Oralia asked. ¡°The village maybe? His family?¡±

    ¡°The territory¡¯s been flooded with realm forces trying to keep it from going belly up like Adderwood. As far as the village itself, it¡¯s been eerily quiet. Nothing in, nothing out. I assumed the Belfast family was staying low, trying to ride out the impending rebellion unnoticed, but I¡¯m starting to think their silence might be something more sinister.¡±

    ¡°Sinister how?¡± Oralia sensed she already knew the answer but hoped, secretly, that Rali would prove her hunch wrong.

    The dwarf outlined her thought process with an idle flick of her hand. ¡°If I were Geralt, I wouldn¡¯t waste my time hunting Faris down. Not when I know he¡¯s got a family and whole village of people he cares about. I¡¯d take them hostage instead. Lure the rat back to the nest, so to speak.¡±

    Hope sank in Oralia¡¯s chest. ¡°I was afraid you were going to say that.¡±

    ¡°If we were to get involved, completely hypothetically speaking, of course, we would have quite a dilemma on our hands.¡± Rali¡¯s gaze swept aimlessly across the sparsely lit apartment as she spoke, purposely avoiding eye contact. ¡°Our main objective would be to find Faris before Geralt does, obviously. But, in order to do so, we¡¯d have to go talk to the people most likely to know where he¡¯s hiding. Those same people are probably under heavy surveillance right now.¡±

    ¡°Lonebrook would be crawling with soldiers,¡± Oralia said. ¡°Going anywhere near there would be walking right into Geralt¡¯s trap.¡±

    ¡°Not if we use our heads. The surrounding area is dense forest. Wouldn¡¯t be too hard to smuggle a small team over the border and investigate from a distance.¡±

    It was possible, Oralia conceded. Unfortunately, this realization only served to make her decision more difficult. Had the plan been unfeasible from the start, there would have been no obligation to try. ¡°...Are we actually considering this?¡±

    Sascha¡¯s head lifted, the hope slowly draining from his expression.

    Rali pretended to be more nonchalant over the matter. ¡°I mean, hypothetically, sure.¡±

    ¡°Ralizak, we cannot hypothetically get involved. We either do or we do not.¡± Oralia paused, almost reluctant to say her next words. Here she had thought they were finally retiring and, already, she could feel the dream slipping from her grasp. ¡°I thought we wanted to be done with the fighting.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the fighting I object to, boss. It¡¯s the damn politics that muddy the waters. I¡¯ll hack and slash with you any day of the week.¡±

    Gods dammit. Rali was normally more combative than this. She could always be counted on to provide an extensive list as to why they didn¡¯t need to volunteer for more unpaid charity. ¡°Are you saying you want to do this?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want, alright?¡± Rali threw her hands into the air as she sank lower in the chair until only the top of her head was visible. ¡°It just feels, I don¡¯t know, kind of bad? We should have been keeping a better watch on Faris. And now he¡¯s gone missing, with gods knows how many people looking for him. His village is probably being overrun right now, and here we are none the wiser, looking like complete assholes who don¡¯t give a shit! He may not be family, but he¡¯s damn close, and you don¡¯t abandon family.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s eating at you?¡± Sascha was unable to contain his thoughts on the matter any longer. ¡°Not the part where Geralt is going to use Faris to lure Rasp right into his trap? The rumors have gotten out of hand, no question, but we all saw what the boy could do. He¡¯d be devastation incarnate in the wrong hands.¡±

    This was not the sort of objection Oralia was hoping for.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong,¡± Sascha continued, ¡°the last thing I want to do is get involved in another cause, but keeping Rasp out of enemy hands seems like a disaster worth preventing. Frankly, I¡¯m just relieved the two of you are involving me in this conversion for a change.¡±

    ¡°Sunflower strikes an excellent point, Oralia,¡± Rali said, voice muffled slightly due to the fact she had her face buried in the back of the overstuffed chair. ¡°We need to do this, not for ourselves, for the betterment of the people or whatever.¡±

    ¡°That is not what I said.¡±

    ¡°Plain as day, big fella. We all heard you. Your argument is rock solid, too. I could squabble all night as to why getting involved is a shit idea, but I know when I¡¯m beaten. You win. It¡¯s decided. We¡¯ve got to find Faris and spare the world of the impending Rasp disaster.¡±

    Sascha crossed his burly arms and scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t like that you¡¯re pinning this on me.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Rali¡¯s hand popped up from over the back of the chair, gesturing vaguely in Oralia¡¯s direction. ¡°We¡¯ll pin it on her then. She makes a good scapegoat.¡±

    ¡°I have not yet decided anything,¡± Oralia reminded them with an irritated click of her tusks.

    Sascha stood, catching himself against the back of the couch as he lumbered towards the breakfast table. ¡°In that case, I may as well start drafting a supply list for the journey.¡±

    ¡°As far as I am concerned, we are simply thinking out loud.¡± Oralia¡¯s glare settled on the back of Rali¡¯s chair, attempting to bore holes through it in order to reach her lieutenant. ¡°Some of us are merely speaking with more confidence than they rightfully should.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Moonflower.¡± Sascha caressed the top of her head as he stumbled past. ¡°There¡¯s no use pretending you haven¡¯t already reached a decision. Everyone here knows your personal mantra by now: straight out of the frying pan into the fire. Seeing as our work here is done, it¡¯s high time we find you another fire.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s jaw dropped in disbelief. ¡°Excuse me? The two of you devised this plan. I will not be blamed for this decision.¡±

    ¡°Such a bleeding heart,¡± Sascha crooned.

    ¡°It¡¯s contagious, unfortunately,¡± Rali agreed. ¡°We find it impossible to tell you no sometimes.¡±

    This was no longer a battle or words, but an all out massacre. What¡¯s worse, Oralia found herself on the losing side. ¡°If you must know, yes, I think locating Faris and keeping him from Geralt is the right thing to do. But there is no reason to act rash in the matter. I maintain we should sit on decision for a few days, truly consider our options, weigh the consequences, and, when the time is right¨C¡±

    ¡°Yep, sounds great.¡± Rali slid from the chair and swaggered towards the door with her thumbs hooked in her belt loops. ¡°You do that, boss. I¡¯m going to get some shuteye before our grand departure tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°No one said we are leaving tomorrow!¡±

    ¡°You hear that sizzling sound, Sascha?¡± Rali called over her shoulder as she drew open the creaky door with a strong tug.

    ¡°Indeed. Just about ready for the flames, I¡¯d say.¡±

    Oralia crossed her arms with a huff. ¡°I refuse to engage when the two of you gang up on me like this.¡±

    ¡°You drive a hard bargain, Moonflower. But dammit, if you aren¡¯t convincing.¡± Rali¡¯s voice echoed from the hallway as she disappeared from sight. ¡°Say the word and we¡¯ll follow you all the way to the gates of chaos and back!¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that? Go? You got it, boss!¡±

 147 - Motivational Corn Cakes

    The wind rattled the blurry yellow and orange treetops overhead. From the crunch of leaves underfoot and the pungent stench of decaying foliage, autumn was quickly taking hold of the land. Rasp sat wrapped in a warm blanket, enjoying a rare patch of sunshine that filtered down from the intertwined boughs above. The moment would have been more enjoyable if he wasn¡¯t expected to be doing something else right now.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Whisper called to him. The echo of their voice indicated they were a reasonable distance away. On the edge of their makeshift camp, likely.

    Rasp rolled his head back, muttering under his breath. ¡°As much as I ever will be.¡±

    ¡°So, not at all then?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    ¡°If we could move your self loathing along a tad faster, little bird,¡± Whisper said, ¡°there are other things I wish to do today.¡±

    Rasp supposed there was no harm in getting it over with. Maybe he would get lucky and Whisper would call it quits after a few failed tries, allowing him to spend the rest of the afternoon basking in the sun like the lazy, well fed housecat he sorely wished to be. ¡°As long as you¡¯ve accepted that it¡¯s not going to work, then fine. I¡¯m ready.¡±

    After traveling throughout the night, they finally called it quits around dawn. Rasp slept soundly for several uninterrupted hours and awoke to a hot meal of ground corn cakes and dandelion tea. All things considered, it was a rather pleasant start to his day. It was a shame Whisper had to go ruin it with more training. And not the easy stuff either, like lift this rock into the air, make the wind blow, stop setting the trees on fire. Nope, long gone were the days of the easy-peasy shit. After finally glimpsing Rasp¡¯s untapped potential, Whisper insisted it was high time they explored the depths of his magic-sensitivity.

    Considering what happened the last time he did so, Rasp was perfectly content to keep barely scratching the surface. Which was probably why, other than languidly raising his hand, he didn¡¯t put much effort into the exercise.

    ¡°Anything?¡± Whisper asked from afar.

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    The wind blustered overhead with more intensity than before, stirring dried leaves into the crisp air around him. It was Whisper¡¯s doing undoubtedly, employing one of their lesser spells to try and spark Rasp¡¯s magic-sensitivity. Of course he didn¡¯t need to rely on his powers to know that.

    ¡°How about now?¡± his mentor said.

    ¡°The hairs on my arm lifted.¡± That could just have easily been attributed to the frigid wind as it could the presence of magic, but who was he to look a ¡®it¡¯s something¡¯ horse in the mouth?

    ¡°Dig deeper, little bird. You manifested magical auras once before. You can do it again.¡±

    Manifestation was the official term for it, according to Hop¡¯s incredibly long and confusing summary. Whisper, fortunately, was able to break it down into something more digestible. Essentially, Rasp¡¯s powers had adapted to compensate for his impaired vision. His mind was taking the information gathered from his magic-sensitivity and projecting over the top of his otherwise hazy world, creating, essentially, a form of phantom vision.

    It only applied to magic, however, which was probably the reason Rasp was not in any particular hurry to master his new talent. That, and also because the last time he tapped into said power, he had the sudden, irresistible urge to eat everyone. He wasn¡¯t eager to make that mistake twice.

    ¡°Try again,¡± Whisper called.

    Rasp waved his hand back and forth in front of his face to emphasize that he was definitely trying very, very hard and not just sitting on his ass.

    Unfortunately, Rasp¡¯s mentor was not nearly as much of an idiot as he was. ¡°I understand the hesitation, but I assure you, you¡¯re not going to awaken the darkness. Conditions are ideal. You¡¯re fed, rested, no one is actively trying to kill you, and I am here in the event something goes wrong. I am not expecting you to get it right straight away. I am simply asking that you try.¡±

    ¡°You see my hand, don¡¯t you?¡± Rasp waved it more vigorously.

    Whisper issued a long, dreary sigh before reconsidering tactics. ¡°I will give you another corn cake.¡±

    Finally some motivation he could get behind! Naturally, he couldn¡¯t simply accept Whisper¡¯s offer without trying to sweeten the pot first. ¡°Two.¡±

    ¡°One,¡± Whisper countered.

    ¡°One and a half.¡±

    ¡°Half.¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re going the wrong way!¡±

    ¡°A fistful of pine needles.¡±

    Rasp threw his hands into the air. ¡°Nobody wants that!¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Worm jam spread over a single corn cake.¡±

    ¡°Are you saying ¡®warm¡¯ or ¡®worm¡¯?¡±

    Although he could not see his mentor¡¯s expression, Rasp was one hundred percent certain Whisper had a predatory smile stretched across their scaled face. ¡°Excellent question, little bird. Are you daring enough to find out?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Rasp grumbled, adding, ¡°You¡¯re a terrible negotiator, by the way.¡±

    ¡°I believe this qualifies me as an excellent negotiator, actually. One corn cake, final offer.¡±

    It was better than a fistful of dried pine needles, Rasp supposed. ¡°Deal.¡±

    With the promise of a slightly less empty belly looming tantalizingly closer, he sat straight and focused his breathing. Next, Rasp filled his lungs with air and held it. The drum of his heartbeat slowed as he released the breath. He repeated the process three times before his surroundings slowly started to shift. It was a slight change, barely noticeable at first. He could still feel the crisp breeze on his bare skin; his nose identified the nearby smells of smoldering coals and forest rot; and the ever quaking rustle of the treetops never ceased. But each sense was fainter now, as if the world around him was situated on the other side of a thick glass window.

    Guided by instinct, he opened his eyes to find the same blurry world from before. Only now there was a new addition. It started as a faint blue glow, flickering far beyond the usual constraints of his poor vision. The more he focused on it, the brighter the light became, until it grew three times in size, like a beacon, pulsing with a life of its own. Rasp blinked the strain from his eyes and was surprised to find the phantom aura still there when he opened them again.

    ¡°...I see¡­blue?¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    Rasp pointed in the appropriate direction. The pulsing light shifted smaller and then zipped into the air. It moved so swiftly Rasp nearly lost track of it. His finger followed the phantom glow as it flittered overhead several seconds before touching back down again and returning to its previous size.

    ¡°You were big, and then you were small, and then flying all over the place and¡­¡± Rasp attempted to make sense of what he¡¯d just witnessed. ¡°That was you shifting forms, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°It was. Regardless of what shape I take, you should always be able to track my magical signature.¡±

    Well that could come in handy. For what, Rasp had no idea. The important thing was that he hadn¡¯t fucked it up. He had manifested Whisper¡¯s magic aura as plain as day and his mouth hadn¡¯t even salivated once with the insatiable desire to eat his mentor.

    Wait, what? Why did he just think that?

    The wayward thought caused Rasp¡¯s concentration to slip. Whisper¡¯s dazzling blue glow faded, shrinking in size as the shadowy dark closed in around it. ¡°Shit!¡± Rasp said, clenching his hands as he scrambled to regain his control. ¡°Sorry! I didn¡¯t mean that. I¡¯m not going to eat anybody. That¡¯s just what happened last time and...¡±

    The more he spoke, the more the phantom image slipped like water from between tightly clenched fingers. Across from him, the blurry dark descended, snuffing out the last spark of glowing light.

    ¡°Dammit!¡± Rasp threw his head back with a groan. ¡°I had it. I fucking had it!¡±

    Whisper¡¯s soft footsteps crunched across a sea of dry leaves towards him. ¡°There is no reason to be upset, little bird. I warned that you would not get it straight away and yet you were able to glimpse my aura on your first try. That should be reason to celebrate.¡±

    The disappointment churning the inside of Rasp¡¯s stomach to molten acid slithered up his throat and flooded his mouth. He stewed in his feelings for a few annoying seconds, allowing his temper to simmer, before swallowing it back down. ¡°Celebrate?¡± he said, after a deep breath ensured the vitriol would not spew forth from his gullet once more. ¡°Like with more corn cakes?¡±

    Whisper stood before him, nothing more than a vague, pokey-looking shadow. ¡°If only all of mortal-kind was so easily influenced by their stomachs as you.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a ¡®yes, Rasp. Stuff your face with as many corn cakes as you like¡¯ to me.¡±

    ¡°You get one.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Rasp extended his hand expectantly. ¡°Pay up.¡±

    ¡°After you have completed your lesson in full.¡±

    Life, yet again, proved to Rasp how utterly unfair it was. He slumped onto the leafy ground and spread out, slowly, like cold syrup across the breakfast table. The response that slid from between his tightly clenched teeth wasn¡¯t so much words as it was a series of disgruntled sounds strung together.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be one of these days, I see,¡± Whispered muttered. ¡°Fortunately for me, my portion of this lesson is concluded.¡±

    Rasp lifted his head from the ground. ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I will be spending the rest of the afternoon scouting the area for the settlement. Your father will be accompanying me so that we may cover twice the ground.¡±

    Whisper and dad were leaving? Together? With no one left to keep him from curling into a ball in the sunshine and napping the rest of the day away? It seemed his luck had turned. Fate had finally looked down upon him and smiled.

    ¡°You will stay here and resume the rest of your training with the artificer.¡± Whisper did nothing to hide the amusement in their voice. ¡°You will be relieved to hear that he was positively enthusiastic to be given the opportunity. Already has an entire lesson planned and went on and on in profuse detail about plans for future assignments.¡±

    And just like that, Rasp¡¯s visions of a relaxing afternoon turned to dust. ¡°Why can¡¯t I go with you instead? Don¡¯t you need me to translate dad for you?¡±

    ¡°Your father¡¯s mind is not an easy one to meld with, but I am steadily making progress. We will make do without you. You will be more useful to me here, working on your training.¡±

    Again, Rasp substituted a disgruntled sound in lieu of an intelligible response. It was probably better, for Whisper at least. After all, a single afternoon with Father would provide enough exposure to colorful expletives to last anyone a lifetime.

    ¡°There, there.¡± Whisper patted the top of Rasp¡¯s head. The fact that Rasp was still facedown in the dirt meant the fae had either stooped to his level or, the more likely scenario, was using their foot. ¡°I think you may actually get something out of this one.¡±

    ¡°A headache doesn''t count!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting the corn cake.¡±

    The original luster of the promised corn cake had started to lose some of its shine. ¡°I would feel better if it was two.¡±

    ¡°I would feel better if you would stop acting like you were two, but here we are.¡± Whisper¡¯s soft footsteps padded away in the distance as they called over their shoulder. ¡°Try to have a good day. I expect a glowing report upon my return.¡±

 148 - Fittingly Pretentious

    Rasp personally never understood the practice of meditation. For one, reining in the unconscious squirms and fidgets his body made seemingly all on its own was damn near impossible. He was a natural squirmer, after all. And even then, his head presented a greater challenge. It was rarely quiet, churning out a constant stream of miscellaneous thoughts incapable of being calmed nor quelled. The effort to get both his body and his mind to behave themselves at the same time was simply too great of a challenge to even try.

    At least until something less desirable came along, of course. And then Rasp was suddenly all about meditation. Like training, for example. Instead of participating in his lesson, Rasp was envisioning himself as a flower, who existed only to take in the sun and sway listlessly in the crisp autumn breeze.

    A strong hand gripped the top of his knee, shaking him from his plant-life bliss. Judging from his tone, Hop did not sound nearly as ecstatic that Rasp had achieved his afternoon-long dream of becoming one with the universe. ¡°Are you even listening?¡±

    Rasp kept his palms pressed together, not because it helped with his concentration, but because it seemed fittingly pretentious for someone who was using meditation as a means to procrastinate. ¡°Flowers do not need to listen. They simply exist.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Shh,¡± Rasp shushed as he lifted his finger to Hop¡¯s face and smashed it against the faun¡¯s nose in a poor attempt to find his lips. ¡°We¡¯re meditating.¡±

    ¡°There is a world of difference between true meditation and ignoring someone because you don¡¯t want to roll up your sleeves and get to work. I think we both know which category you fall into.¡±

    Rasp tentatively opened one eye and squinted accusingly at Hop¡¯s blurry shape. ¡°Flowers do not have sleeves.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have mouths either. Which, in case you have forgotten, are necessary to eat with.¡±

    ¡°Back to talking about mastication already? So predictable, Hopalong.¡± It was adorable how terrible Hop was at keeping him on task. Honestly, Rasp didn¡¯t know what Whisper had been thinking. Leaving him and Hop alone, together? With the expectation that Rasp actually learn something? Ha! The only one learning a valuable lesson would be Hop¨Cspecifically, to never accept another last-minute assignment from Whisper ever again.

    Rasp¡¯s only regret was that his temporary instructor had not yet realized the futility of the undertaking. He tried to ease Hop into reluctant acceptance with a patronizing pat on the head. ¡°Come, leave behind your endless wanting and be a flower with me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a flower. I want to do the lesson,¡± Hop said miserably. ¡°Come on, Rasp, please? I never get to test any of my ideas. I planned an entire lesson around it and everything.¡±

    Guilt gnawed at Rasp¡¯s resolve. Whereas most people either used bribery or threats to strong-arm him into compliance, Hop wasn¡¯t employing either of these tried and true tactics. It was as if he expected sheer pity alone to work in his favor. The idea was laughable. Almost as much as the fact that it was working. Almost. Lucky for him, Rasp was equipped with a fickle moral compass and an arsenal of distractions at the ready for keeping the guilt-riddled feelings buried deep down out of sight.

    ¡°Oh, that reminds me! I have a new joke for you.¡± Rasp nudged the dismal faun with his shoulder, grinning. ¡°What do you call a debate about mastication?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Because that¡¯s not a thing.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s devious smile grew wider. ¡°A mas-debation.¡±

    The joke earned both an ear flap and an irritated snort, scoring it a solid two out of three on the Annoyed Faun Scale. Alas, Hop had no appreciation for the humorous things in life and refused to give any acknowledgement to Rasp¡¯s overwhelming creativity whatsoever. ¡°Whisper warned that I might have to get firm with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Hoppy. You know I can¡¯t resist when you talk dirty like that.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re not interested in participating, then maybe you¡¯d prefer some light reading? We could start with my favorite volume on the frequencies of magic and move on to the heavier subjects once we¡¯ve gone through it beginning to end.¡±

    So much for not resorting to threats.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Rasp performed a full body slump in protest. Despite his many brilliant and hilarious attempts, the damned faun would simply not be deterred from his lesson plan. ¡°Why are you being so insistent about this? Whisper¡¯s not even here. It¡¯s not a requirement to dedicate every spare second of the day to training, you know. Too much learning is bad for the brain.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this,¡± Hop huffed. ¡°You may be the single most magical person I have ever encountered, and you have not a single curious bone in your body.¡±

    Rasp lifted his finger over his head pedantically. ¡°That¡¯s not true. I have a very curious-looking bone. You¡¯ve said so yourself.¡±

    ¡°Where is your sense of wonder?¡± Hop refused to break from his tirade to point out that the body part Rasp was referring to didn¡¯t qualify as a bone. Not even to reassert the part where he wished to never see it again. ¡°We¡¯re testing magical theories that have never been touched on before. A witch that can manipulate two separate elements at the same time? Possibly more? This could be the breakthrough of the century!¡±

    That all sounded like work. A concept Rasp typically avoided at all costs, oftentimes at the expense of creating more work down the road. But that was Future Rasp¡¯s problem. Present Rasp merely wanted to enjoy the sunshine a little bit longer before Whisper and Father returned and he had to climb back onto the damn mule.

    Hop, unfortunately, already knew he¡¯d won their battle of wills. ¡°I¡¯ve arranged three objects in front of you. Like before, each one represents a different element. I¡¯ve added a twist this time, but we¡¯ll get to that. Begin with water. Relying solely on your magic, locate the water and use your powers to manipulate it.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Ever since learning about Rasp¡¯s newfound ability to influence multiple elements at once, Hop had been abuzz with all sorts of lofty ideas on how to apply it to his current training regimen. Rasp was not so keen. Manipulating one element by itself without it blowing up in his face was hard. Two at the same time seemed like a recipe for disaster. Making it rain, for example, was good. Making it rain fire was, arguably, less good.

    ¡°But¨C¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s either this or the book.¡±

    Realizing his options had run out at last, Rasp thrust his hand out in front of him with a groan. At least they were starting with water. He liked water. It was relatively straightforward and, in small quantities, harmless. Unlike fire, which hurt like a bitch when he got it wrong. The prickle of magic coursed down his arm and gathered in his fingertips. Clearing his mind of distractions, Rasp closed his eyes and drew into himself. He felt the magic lift from his skin and twist and curl in the air, seeking its intended source. The light in his mind flared blue as it made contact with the element he sought.

    A wry smirk pulled at his mouth as Rasp flicked his fingers. He was rewarded with a splash and a startled yelp from Hop.

    ¡°While dumping water on my head constitutes manipulation, it is not what I meant,¡± the faun gruffed.

    ¡°I think it earned a corn cake, no?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡± This time Rasp spread his fingers apart, widening the scope of his magic as he searched for the next element. The second object was proving more difficult than the first. Despite Hop¡¯s insistence otherwise, Rasp could not find the earth element with his magic. After the umpteenth time, he dropped his hand into his lap with a resigned sigh. ¡°Can I give up now, please? I can¡¯t find the stupid rock.¡±

    ¡°Earth is made up of more than just rocks, Rasp.¡±

    ¡°Great. Don¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± Hop uncurled Rasp¡¯s fingers and placed something cold into his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t think about it, just feel it.¡± After a few seconds of awkward silence, the faun clarified. ¡°With your magic.¡±

    Too late. Rasp¡¯s fingers were all that were necessary to identify it. ¡°I think you¡¯re the first person to ever give me a knife willingly.¡±

    Sensing Rasp needed less of a push in the right direction and something more akin to a full body-slam, Hop explained, ¡°One of the main components of that blade is iron. Iron is a mineral mined from the earth. Given that you grew up in an area with an abundance of iron, I suspect you may be more sensitive to it than you realize. Being able to seek iron with your magic and manipulate it could be a serious advantage to you.¡±

    Rasp twiddled the blade absentmindedly between his fingers. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Use your magic to find the iron object in front of you and I¡¯ll tell you.¡±

    Biting back the groan that lodged in his throat, Rasp gripped the blade in one hand and stretched the other out in front of him. Once more, he sent tendrils of magic into the air like runners from a vine. Using the iron in his hand as a reference, he checked the energy signals of the objects closest to him, searching for one that matched. At last, he found it. The object glowed in his mind¡¯s eye a dull red.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Hop exclaimed. ¡°You¡¯ve got it, good. Now hold your concentration. We¡¯re going to introduce our last element.¡±

    Rasp heard a match strike and then the gentle burn of flame. The fact that it didn¡¯t go out after a few seconds told him Hop had used it to light their lantern.

    ¡°Oh good,¡± Rasp sighed. ¡°We¡¯re adding fire. This usually ends well.¡±

    It was too bad he¡¯d already dumped the water.

    ¡°The iron object is a pan. I want you to use the energy from the fire to manipulate the iron.¡±

    ¡°This feels like an overly complicated ploy for me to make dinner. You could have just asked.¡±

    The excitement in Hop¡¯s voice was somewhat endearing, actually. At least one of them was getting something out of the stupid training. ¡°Harness the heat from the fire,¡± Hop instructed. ¡°And apply it to the pan.¡±

    Rasp slipped the knife into his pocket and lifted his free hand in the direction of Hop¡¯s voice and, consequently, the lantern. With one half of his concentration focused on the iron pan and the other on the flame, he melded them together within his mind. The dull red glow behind his eyes flickered before it turned a brilliant crimson.

    ¡°You did it!¡±

    Rasp hesitated before asking. ¡°And you¡¯re sure it¡¯s not on fire?¡±

    ¡°No, you transferred just the heat energy. Well done!¡±

    Being praised was not something he was used to. Hop meant it in a genuine way, but that didn¡¯t stop Rasp from having the sudden urge to crawl deep into a hole and roll in the dirt until the itchy feeling subsided. ¡°Can I stop now? My palms are starting to burn.¡±

    With the go-ahead from Hop, he snapped his magic back into his body and allowed the noise of his thoughts to refill the void. Many different voices shouted in his head at once. Most of them complained about the throbbing sensation coming from his cramping fingers. A few wanted a nap. Someone in the back protested that, despite the many, many promises of food, no one had yet delivered a corn cake into his mouth.

    Wringing the last stings of pain from his fingers, Rasp asked. ¡°So what¡¯s the advantage of that?¡±

    Short of heating the kettle when they were out of firewood, he didn¡¯t see much of a point. That was probably his biggest gripe with magic. It seemed to require so much effort for a payoff that could have been secured by simpler means. Added steps with little practicality. All the magic users in the world seemed so consumed with the how, they never bothered with the why.

    ¡°It¡¯s limitless, really.¡± Hop sounded like he was preparing to launch into one of his excited ravings where he produced lots of words and little sense, when he stopped and considered his audience. ¡°Say you were to get cornered by soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Like that ever happens,¡± Rasp scoffed.

    ¡°You¡¯re already at a disadvantage. One, you can¡¯t see them and two, it would drain your magic to fight them all at once. If you were to apply the heat from fire to their swords, for instance, the metal would grow too hot to handle and they would be forced to drop their weapons. Suddenly, you¡¯re no longer the one at a disadvantage.¡±

    ¡°Except for the archers.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Rasp. Except for the archers,¡± Hop agreed, adding, ¡°Although I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re fairly decent at lighting bows on fire.¡±

    ¡°Oh. My. Gods.¡± Rasp¡¯s jaw lowered as a burst of excitement worked its way up from his core. ¡°That was a dig! Your first one, too. Undeniable proof that I am rubbing off on you!¡±

    A pregnant pause followed as he waited for Hop to say something clever in return. Rasp waited, nearly ten painful seconds in total, before he was forced to concede the matter with a pitiful shake of his head. ¡°I know you¡¯re new to this, but that was your cue to give me shit back. I left a very open window of opportunity for you.¡±

    ¡°I noticed. No, thank you.¡±

    ¡°What? Suddenly don¡¯t want to get firm with me?¡±

    ¡°I will give you two corn cakes to never bring that up again.¡±

    As much as Rasp wanted the extra food, the perpetual need to have the last word won out as usual. ¡°You drive a real hard bargain.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± Hop stood. ¡°I¡¯m getting the book.¡±

    ¡°Why bother with that dusty old thing when you have me to check out?¡±

 149 - Babies Of Defiance

    ¡°Now this is the kind of magic I can get behind,¡± Rasp said, speaking around the mouthful of food tucked into the corner of his cheek. He still didn¡¯t fully grasp how Hop had turned something as horribly inedible as dried chicken feed into a more dense version of a biscuit. The food was somewhat rustic in its simplicity, lacking just a touch of sweetness to combat the stale mealiness of the aged corn, but it sure as chaos beat trying to chew a mouthful of rocks.

    ¡°That¡¯s not magic, Rasp.¡± Hop sat beside him, his attention torn between their riveting conversation and whatever new thingamabob he was currently tinkering with. ¡°It¡¯s basic food preparation. Believe me, I¡¯ve made do with worse.¡±

    ¡°Worse than a bloated worm?¡±

    ¡°Ever heard of a dirt cookie?¡± the faun grunted, voice audibly strained as he tightened a bolt, or screw, or something into submission. At least that¡¯s what Rasp hoped was taking place. There were only a handful of other activities worthy of such strenuous grunting. And, frankly, he didn¡¯t want to consider those. Especially since he had not been invited to partake.

    ¡°Is that anything like a mud pie?¡± Not that Rasp ever ate those, willingly anyway. Alas, having five older brothers often meant he was the recipient of many, many terrible pranks growing up. Mud was preferable to donkey shit, at least. How he¡¯d come to know such information was not something Rasp cared to admit.

    ¡°Similar concept,¡± Hop said. ¡°The taste is terrible, but you¡¯re so desperate to fill your stomach, you hardly notice the grit it leaves between your teeth.¡±

    It was not often Rasp met someone whose childhood was as grim as his own. His mouthful of soggy corn cake was suddenly difficult to swallow. ¡°You ate it by choice?¡±

    ¡°When it¡¯s the dead of winter and the ground¡¯s frozen solid, you make do with what you can find.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s attention dropped to the last bit of food nestled within the palm of his hand. It wasn¡¯t much, a bite at most. He¡¯d done his best to eat his cake slowly, savoring every nibble. All of the sudden it felt wrong to finish it. He lifted his hand in Hop¡¯s direction. ¡°You want this?¡±

    ¡°You just spent the last two hours hounding me for a second helping.¡±

    ¡°That was before I felt sorry for you.¡±

    ¡°For what? Having to put up with you?¡±

    ¡°My company is a perk of the job, not a drawback, so no. I meant the depressing shit you try to pass off as normal.¡± Rasp¡¯s hand closed around the morsel as a sense of sadness pooled within his stomach. ¡°I swear, sometimes you say something so pitiful it makes me want to leave you on the doorstep of the next happy family we come across.¡±

    ¡°After all the trouble you went through to kidnap me, you¡¯re just going to turn around and abandon me?¡±

    ¡°Abducted, Hop.¡± Rasp patted his arm sympathetically. ¡°You¡¯re not a child. Taking you against your will would have constituted abduction, not kidnapping.¡± And it wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d technically abducted him, either. Yes, he and Whisper might have destroyed the rest of Hop¡¯s team and ended his employment with the Division of Divination, but in a bigger, more important way, they¡¯d liberated him as well. It wasn¡¯t their fault Hop had nowhere else to go afterwards.

    ¡°I feel so much better already.¡±

    ¡°Good, I knew you would.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certainly not biding my time, secretly waiting for a better opportunity to come along.¡±

    Better opportunity? What could possibly be better than life on the run? Never knowing where your next meal would come from, or who was out to kill you, or how many teeth you¡¯d wake up missing after a night out on the town? Actually, come to think of it, Rasp wanted the answers to these questions as well. Who knows, maybe he¡¯d invite himself along and see just how much better these other opportunities truly were.

    ¡°What¡¯cha got in mind, Hopalong?¡±

    The faun thought on it for a moment as he tinkered away on whatever was taking up the other half of his concentration. His answer was delivered slowly, as if considering the validity of each word as he spoke it. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve always wanted to find a little village to call my own. Settle down. Build a proper workshop.¡±

    ¡°Get yourself a wife and kids?¡± Rasp was certain he could find a few of those lying around the next village they came across. Of course that probably did constitute kidnapping.

    ¡°...Some of those things, perhaps.¡± Hop switched the subject before Rasp could double down on his idea to illegally procure the missing members needed to make his happy family complete. ¡°Honestly, when you talk about Lonebrook, you make it seem like paradise. I think I¡¯d like to go someplace like that.¡±

    ¡°Lonebrook?¡± Rasp frowned, not sure how he felt about sharing his happy family. ¡°Did you miss the part where I mentioned the son of the local judge made me fight for money? He used to pay me in buttons.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you fight over buttons before, Rasp,¡± Hop ever-so helpfully reminded him. ¡°I realize nowhere is going to be without flaw, but almost anything will be better than life at the beck and call of the Division of Divination.¡±

    Hop¡¯s story, the bits and pieces Rasp could wrangle out of him over the past two months, was rather sad. To start, he was born to exceptionally cruel parents¨Cthe fact that they named him Hopalong Humphry was, unfortunately, but the first of the countless ways they¡¯d set Hop up for a life of misery. The eldest of three siblings, Hop was left in charge of raising his brother and sister, often going to extremes to meet their basic needs. This arrangement came to an end the moment Hop started to show magical talent. Instead of fostering their son¡¯s budding talent, Mister and Missus Humphry promptly sold him off to the Division of Divination for a handful of silver.

    Ripped from everything he knew, Hop poured his heart into becoming a successful artificer, determined to return home and rescue his brother and sister from the life they¡¯d been dealt. The Division of Divination had other plans. Immediately following his graduation, the academy insisted Hop repay his debt to the institute by accepting a lowly position as a traveling artificer instead. Resolute, Hop sent any spare money home addressed to his siblings, only to later learn there was no one left to receive it. His family had moved on without him, leaving him alone in a world that intended to wring him dry.

    Rasp remembered the day they¡¯d met and how, after he and Whisper had laid waste to the rest of the party, Hop hadn¡¯t even bothered to run, content to wait his turn to die. Since then, Rasp had made it his personal mission to rekindle the faun¡¯s former passion¨Cthere could only be one grief-stricken husk in the group, after all, and he wasn¡¯t about to share his hard earned title! Thus, amidst copious amounts of complaining and feet dragging, Rasp selflessly put up with the extra curricular training sessions solely for Hop¡¯s benefit.

    And definitely not just because Whisper told him to. It was all one hundred percent Rasp¡¯s idea. Who was utterly selfless, and absolutely deserved to finish eating the piece of corn cake slowly turning to soup within his sweat-soaked palm.

    ¡°There you go again, making me feel sorry for you.¡± Rasp shoved the soggy morsel into his mouth, trying his utmost not to sputter crumbs as he spoke. ¡°Tell you what, I¡¯ll take you to Lonebrook when all of this finally blows over. I¡¯ll introduce you to the Belfasts and whatever happens afterwards, happens. Who knows, maybe they¡¯ll agree to adopt a third son.¡±

    ¡°Third son?¡± Hop stopped his incessant tinkering for the briefest of moments. ¡°I thought Faris was their only son?¡±

    ¡°They just tell him that so he doesn¡¯t get jealous.¡±

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    ¡°I see.¡± There was another thoughtful pause before Hop asked, ¡°And are the Belfasts aware they adopted you?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. It works best as a surprise, I think. Just spring it on them without warning, that way they can¡¯t say no.¡±

    ¡°I will forever be envious of your confidence, Rasp. Imagine what I could accomplish had I not felt the need to ask permi¡­¡± Hop¡¯s voice trailed, leaving the rest of his backhanded compliment unsaid.

    Rasp opened his mouth, a halfhearted protest already curled on his tongue, when Hop¡¯s hand clamped down onto his shoulder and squeezed, signaling for him to keep quiet. Rasp fell silent, straining to catch whatever had his companion on the alert. In the distance, through the rustling of the wind and a squirrel angrily chattering several trees away, he heard the ominous snap of a twig underfoot. Rasp instinctively slipped the folding knife from his pocket. He had an actual sword, but it was all the way across camp, stashed under his saddle. A lot of good it did him now.

    ¡°There¡¯s more than one,¡± Hop whispered. ¡°They¡¯re starting to close in. I think they have us surrounded.¡±

    Old Rasp would have opted to stay and stand his ground. That Rasp, however, had possessed a working sense of vision. It was much easier justifying such reckless behavior when you were capable of seeing who or what was trying to kill you. He still preferred fists over magic, of course. But he also preferred those fights to be a little less one sided. ¡°Can we leg it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¨C¡±

    Dry branches rattled together as someone extracted themselves from the undergrowth across from them. The disturbance cut off Hop¡¯s grim answer, immediately dispelling any hope of a swift getaway.

    ¡°Good afternoon, gents!¡± an overly friendly voice hailed to them. ¡°We have had quite the night deciphering that trail you left us. Now¡± ¨Cthere was a notable pause as though the speaker was looking for something¨C ¡°where might that third one of you be?¡±

    ¡°Hello, creepy stranger!¡± Rasp returned the greeting, mirroring the threatening warmth of the newcomer¡¯s voice. He gestured his hand from the blurry outline of the intruder to the vague, brownish mule shaped one currently grazing off to the side. ¡°Here she is right here. We call her Bonecrusher. Get any closer and you¡¯ll find out why.¡±

    Hop slammed Rasp with his shoulder, hard.

    Okay, so maybe there was still some Old Rasp hanging around in his brain somewhere. He liked to come out at the most inopportune times too. Naughty little devil.

    ¡°Oh, boy,¡± the newcomer said. ¡°We¡¯ve got ourselves a comedian.¡±

    Before Hop could mitigate the damage, Rasp opened his big mouth once more and made things substantially worse. ¡°Can we skip the banter and get to the part where you tell us who you are and what you want?¡±

    ¡°Delighted you asked, friend. I am Irvan and we are proud members of the Stolen Uprising, the Sons and Daughters of Defiance, the citizens¡¯ answer to the crimes committed by the¨C¡±

    Dear gods, they were going to be here a while. One of the key selling points to a successful revolution was uniting the cause under a single name. The moment you started throwing in the extra titles was the moment things got too confusing to keep track. Rasp leaned closer in Hop¡¯s direction, murmuring, ¡°Are these the resistance fighters that have been giving the Division of Divination the run around?¡±

    ¡°Looks to be. I think it would be best for me to handle¨C¡±

    Too late. ¡°Hey, Toddlers of Defiance, good news! We¡¯re not with the division, either. So you can just go on your merry way and find someone else to fuck with, alright? Alright. Thank you, bye-bye.¡±

    Irvan¡¯s hazy shape swaggered a little closer. Rasp could not tell what species he was. Some type of smudgy cloud according to his poor vision. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you misunderstand,¡± Irvan tutted. ¡°You see¡­¡±

    ¡°Good gods, he¡¯s still talking.¡± Rasp hung his head, whispering under his breath to Hop, ¡°Can you pinpoint where the others are?¡± If these were the same idiots that¡¯d been following them since the last village, then that meant there were four more members hanging back, using the trees as cover most likely.

    Rasp half expected Hop to tell him to give his phantom aura vision another try. Thankfully, the faun could read the fucking room, and seemed to sense now was not the opportune time for yet another surprise magic lesson. ¡°I hear four others,¡± he said. ¡°Two behind, two flanking.¡±

    Irvan, the self appointed spokesperson for the Babies of Defiance, carried on as though he enjoyed the sound of his voice. Which, to be fair, was a very nice sounding voice. Rasp was particularly interested in hearing the way it gasped with his hands cutting off its air supply. ¡°We were sent into the territories to recruit like-minded individuals of the, how shall we say, magical persuasion? We haven¡¯t had much success in that regard, but we do keep hearing tales of a particular witch that has thwarted the Division of Divination at every turn so far. As you can imagine, we are very interested in making their acquaintance.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what, if we come across any witches, we¡¯ll let you know.¡± It was daring, Rasp realized, but the little devil stomping around the back of his brain was done with talking. He stood, nodding for Hop to follow. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve heard enough of this. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The four hidden members rushed forward, snapping every blasted twig between them and the edge of camp, as they moved in to cut off Rasp¡¯s escape.

    ¡°Not yet, stand down,¡± Irvan called off his companions. ¡°Forgive my men, good sirs. They''ve been put through a lot lately. As you can see, there¡¯s no need for this to end in violence. We¡¯re not like the division. We do not force anyone into working for our cause. All that our leader asks is that you accept her invitation to speak with her face-to-face.¡±

    Rasp, once more, spoke so only Hop would hear. ¡°What kind of weapons are we dealing with here?¡±

    ¡°Two fighters in full body armor with swords, two others with walking staffs¨Clooks to be the magical kind. Their spokesperson is the archer, but he¡¯s using his hands to talk.¡± Hop leaned closer. ¡°I vote we play along and wait for Whisper to find us again.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the point of teaching me magic if you¡¯re too scared to let me use it?¡±

    ¡°At least two of these people are witches as well, Rasp. There¡¯s no telling what they can do. Best not to risk a confrontation until we know who we are dealing with.¡±

    Rasp raised his voice to the leader of the other party. ¡°Your leader, is she here?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a journey, I¡¯m afraid. If we leave now, we can make decent headway by nightfall.¡±

    Yeah, that wasn¡¯t happening.

    ¡°Lantern,¡± Rasp hissed, flexing his fingers. He bowed his head and tightened his grip on the iron blade within his hand. His surroundings shifted in the span of a single breath, so fast it made the inside of his head spin.

    Hop¡¯s muffled voice sounded farther away. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Light the damn lantern!¡±

    Several voices rang out, shouting all manner of warnings he did not bother to decipher. There was movement, too. Fast footsteps and the clatter of swords being drawn from wooden scabbards, but Rasp kept his focus. Magic lifted from his body and, like a moth to flame, found the sources he sought. Once more, the iron pulsed with a dull red glow within his mind. With his targets locked in, Rasp pulled the heat from the flame and amplified it. Power coursed through his veins and shot forth. The dull red glow burned hotter, hotter, hotter.

    The muffled voices turned to screams.

    Lights flashed within his head, warning that the strain was too much. His practice session had been conducted with a pan¨Can item that was both relatively small and incapable of moving on his own. Rasp¡¯s current targets were larger, on the move, and pulling far too much of his magic too quickly. Already, he could feel his concentration starting to slip. His surroundings melded together in a chaotic haze of shifting light and dampened shrieks.

    ¡°Rasp!¡± Finally, a voice broke through to him. Rasp struggled to maintain his concentration as his consciousness started to resurface, only vaguely aware that Hop was shaking him. ¡°Stop, please!¡±

    With a wave of his sore fingers, Rasp severed the connection between his magic and the iron and fire elements. The sudden drop nearly took him out at the knees. He blinked the last of the flickering lights from his eyes, leaning heavily against Hop as he waited for his other senses to play catch up. His nose, in particular, was not adjusting well. The only smell it picked up was that of burnt hair.

    ¡°Fuck my hands hurt.¡± Rasp paused, realizing the surrounding forest had gone eerily quiet. ¡°Why aren¡¯t they attacking us? Was that all it really took to make them run?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Hop gulped. ¡°It definitely was.¡±

    Something about the faun¡¯s tone made his stomach drop. ¡°I fucked it up, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault actually. I was so enraptured by the idea, I overlooked several glaring details.¡± After a moment, Hop steadied his breath and clarified, ¡°Plated armor is made of iron. Helms, too.¡±

    ¡°...Oh.¡± The magnitude of Hop¡¯s explanation struck him low and Rasp felt his knees buckle beneath his weight. He struck the ground as the lurch in his stomach rolled upwards, clogging his throat with hot corn and bile. The smell. Oh gods, the smell was going to be burned into his memory forever.

    ¡°If it helps, the three not wearing armor got away.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t help!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Rasp. You didn¡¯t know.¡± And then, for whatever reason, Hop kept talking. ¡°Well, I mean, it is your fault. But I realize you didn¡¯t intend to cook the soldiers alive in their armor.¡±

    Yep. That mental image was going to haunt the dark corners of his mind every sleepless night for the rest of his life. Rasp forced the lump of vomit back down with a difficult swallow. ¡°How are you so calm? Why aren¡¯t you panicking?¡±

    ¡°Shock, probably.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be sick,¡± Rasp moaned as he sank further into the dry leaves.

    Hop yanked Rasp to his feet with a firm tug. ¡°No time for that. We should get moving.¡±

 150 - The Ducky Luck

    It took two days for Daana¡¯s party to smuggle across the border into Hallowbac territory, avoiding swaths of realm and resistance fighters alike. Another three days were spent canvassing a small wharf town before Ellisar secured passage on what she insisted was a reputable sailing vessel. The fact that the captain was willing to take a bribe probably should have been Daana¡¯s first tip off that her and Ellisar¡¯s definition of ¡®reputable¡¯ was not the same. Daana¡¯s second tip off came the moment she set eyes on the ship in question.

    The Ducky Luck was on the smaller side, with patched sails, paint chipped sides, and appeared to be held together by a combination of pitch, barnacles, and sheer tenacity. A narrow plank stretched across the lapping waters, serving as the bridge between the rickety pier and the equally rickety looking boat. The gangplank wobbled in the middle, a good twenty foot drop over the churning sea. Daana tested its sturdiness with her foot. The fact that it didn¡¯t immediately snap in half was not a good enough reason to edge further out onto it.

    Snag stood bent beside her, the ends of his black and gold coattails flapping haphazardly in the wind. Due to his measurements, the suit had been purchased not stolen. Fortunately for them, Hallowbac bordered the neighboring swamp territories and had a thriving goblin population. Finding a tailor had not been difficult. Convincing Snag to fork over two gold pieces for clothing he deemed ¡®prissy¡¯, however, was an entirely different story.

    He looked the part though, Daana had to give him that. Unlike other realm territories, here goblins made up a large percentage of the head merchants. You could pick out the more important ones from the crowd based on attire alone¨Cthat and the line of comically muscular bodyguards trailing in their wake. Snag had known exactly the image he wanted to project and selected a black doublet with red embroidered details, a pair of ankle banded trousers, and a sharp overcoat. His clothes advertised that he was a mid-level merchant, well off enough to afford a bodyguard, but not so much that it would be worth the hassle to jump him in the streets.

    With the territory in open rebellion, the noble and merchant class were fleeing the area to ride out the oncoming storm in calmer waters. Daana¡¯s small group would be indiscernible from all the others rushing to buy passage further up the coast.

    Although Snag did not enjoy the change in attire, he certainly wielded his newfound sense of status with gleeful vigor. ¡°Secretary.¡± He tapped the butt of his cane against the pier as a means to command Daana¡¯s attention. ¡°Are you going to cross or not? I grow weary of your indecision.¡±

    Daana¡¯s nervous gaze shifted from him to the rickety gangplank and then all the way down to the frothing waters below. Her stomach clenched in protest. Sweat dripped down her brow as Daana shuffled to the side, gesturing for Snag to take the lead. ¡°My apologies, sir. After you.¡±

    Or, better yet, they could ditch the boat altogether and travel on land as Daana had been vehemently insisting from the start. Who cares if the sea was faster? It was also a lot deadlier. Considering the travel arrangements were Ellisar¡¯s doing, this was probably just another ploy to get Daana to give up.

    It was a shame that it was working.

    Snag appeared to be having similar reservations. He peered cautiously over the side of the pier into the heaving waters below. His ear flattened against the back of his head as he shuffled several steps away from the edge. ¡°Maybe we should send someone bigger. Make sure the gangplank¡¯s got structural integrity and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°We could send Wormy,¡± Daana agreed.

    He raised his cane at her. ¡°Mind your tongue, you worthless girl!¡±

    Whereas the other horses had been sold off to net a little extra coin before their voyage, Snag had insisted on keeping Wormy. It had taken a small fortune and Ashwyn¡¯s sweet-but-scary negotiation skills to get the captain to agree.

    ¡°Today, ya lubbers!¡± A harsh voice rang out from further down the pier.

    Daana glanced over her shoulder at the odd pair awaiting their turn to board. Somewhere in the past two days Ellisar¡¯s speech mannerisms had slowly reverted back to the seafaring type. And yet, this was not the strangest of her transformations. The posh, neatly dressed elf with finely combed hair and a touch of makeup looked every inch like Snag¡¯s wealthy business partner, and not a wanted criminal with the dwindling patience of a cranky toddler. The most alarming part was that, visually speaking, Ellisar was pulling it off. The moment she opened her mouth was, alas, the same moment the cover stopped working.

    Ashwyn¡¯s hair had been cut and greased to resemble a man¡¯s. Her freshly procured uniform of worn leather and wool all but screamed ¡®working muscle¡¯. The addition of a few convincing blood stains probably helped sell the package, too. Unlike Ellisar, Ashwyn had a better handle on her role and kept having to kindly remind her wife to stop trying to carry the bags.

    Wrangling the pack from her wife¡¯s stubborn hands, Ashwyn turned in their direction and broke into an easy smile. ¡°What¡¯s the hold up, boss? Not afraid of heights are you?¡±

    Snag twiddled his lip ring nervously. ¡°Shipwreck, actually. Seen a few too many of those to board one of these with confidence.¡±

    ¡°And you, miss?¡±

    Daana gazed down at the choppy waters wide-eyed. ¡°All of it. Heights, dark water, shipwreck, this little measly board that no person in their right mind would ever consider crossing.¡±

    ¡°Oh sweet Peaches, it¡¯s gangplank, not a tightrope. There¡¯s nothing to it.¡± To demonstrate, Ashwyn strolled out onto the makeshift bridge with practiced ease. She stopped near the middle, seemingly unperturbed with how the wood sagged beneath her weight. ¡°See? Perfectly safe.¡±

    Snag covered his eyes with a moan, unable to watch. ¡°Please stop bouncing.¡±

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    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Daana? Having second thoughts already? There¡¯s still time to back out, you know.¡± Without Ashwyn to interfere, Ellisar had slunk up from behind. She kept her voice low and free of the fire that burned in her eyes. ¡°A lot can go wrong at sea. Swept overboard, a nasty fall from the rigging, sick to your stomach so bad you vomit your own organs.¡±

    ¡°That last one¡¯s anatomically impossible,¡± Snag said with his eyes still covered.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I made it up to sound scary.¡± Ellisar took Wormy by the lead and moved out across the gangplank without any apparent concern for dark, frothy waters below. ¡°Spewing blood and stomach acid ¡®til you choke to death didn¡¯t sound nearly as ominous.¡±

    Ashwyn intercepted Ellisar at the top of the wobbly gangplank. A look of exasperation danced across the orc¡¯s firmly set eyebrows as she extended her broad hand in the elf¡¯s direction. ¡°My lady, please allow me to take that horse from your delicate hands. Such work is unbefitting a person of your status.¡±

    ¡°Shove off, ya peasant!¡±

    What followed could only be described as a sort of childish standoff. Ashwyn remained at the top of the gangplank, blocking the path as she waited for her wife to surrender the lead to the horse. Ellisar simply stopped midway across, content to run her wife¡¯s patience into the ground instead.

    ¡°What does it mean when Ashwyn does that thing with her hand?¡± Daana whispered as she leaned closer to Snag, unable to tear her gaze from the signal the orc was holding aloft. ¡°The number of fingers changes, but there doesn¡¯t seem to be any pattern to it.¡±

    ¡°Awarding demerits,¡± Snag replied, sounding slightly amused.

    Daana considered this before realizing she had more questions. All of the questions, in fact. ¡°I know what demerits are, but I don¡¯t understand how they apply in this context.¡±

    Unable to contain his laughter, Snag snorted into his sleeve. ¡°It¡¯s probably better if you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair. An explanation like that only makes it more intriguing.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll just have to ask Ellisar then.¡±

    The elf in question realized they were talking about her. She whipped her golden head around, scowling. ¡°You¡¯ve realized this is a lost cause by now, right? If you can¡¯t even get on the bloody boat without issue, there¡¯s no way you¡¯ll survive two weeks at sea. Do us all a favor and call it quits.¡±

    ¡°She might be able to board easier if someone wasn¡¯t blocking the damn bridge.¡± Ashwyn lurched forward and seized the braided rope from Ellisar¡¯s hands, leading Wormy all the way up the gangplank and onto the ship.

    With Wormy plodding up the gangplank behind her, Ellisar had no choice but to move with him. Ellisar threw her hands out from her sides as she was forcibly ushered up onto the ship. ¡°What is with you and your insatiable need to pick lost causes? I already offered to get you a damn puppy instead. It¡¯d be so much less trouble at this point.¡±

    Something about Ellisar wanting her to fail lit a fire in Daana¡¯s belly. Giving up now was exactly what she wanted. Daana would be damned if she proved the stupid elf right. Resolute, she grabbed Snag by the wrist and started out across the gangplank. With her gaze focused on the ship and not the churning sea below, she managed one careful step in front of the other.

    Snag¡¯s resistance was pathetic at best. He slunk along behind her, muttering, ¡°Daana, I like you, but if you start to pull me overboard, I¡¯m severing your hand.¡±

    As she was committed to staying in character and, therefore, could not call Snag the childish name that curled on her tongue, Daana demonstrated her irritation by tightening her grip on his wrist instead. ¡°Hush now, sir. We¡¯re almost there.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re barely three steps across the rickety plank!¡±

    ¡°Almost there,¡± Daana repeated. ¡°We¡¯ll be on the boat before you know it.¡±

    ¡°Boat? I don¡¯t see no boat! This here¡¯s a leaky bathtub, at best. Barely fit to stay afloat above watery depths teeming with sea beasties all hungry for fresh gobby meat.¡±

    In a small, practically nonexistent way, it was a relief not being the one in the middle of a full blown panic for once. Focusing on keeping Snag calm was making it easier to ignore the pooling sense of dread currently turning Daana¡¯s legs to leaden weights. She kept her line of sight on the nearing ship, ignoring the way the lapping tide caused the board to undulate beneath her.

    ¡°I hate everything about this,¡± Snag wailed. ¡°Look, I know Ellisar can be an asshole, but she has a point. We don¡¯t actually have to do this. We can still turn back and find another way.¡±

    Daana tuned out the rest of Snag¡¯s bellyaching. Not due to annoyance, but because he was talking sense. By some miracle the rickety gangplank maintained enough structural integrity for them to complete the crossing without falling to their watery deaths. Daana stepped over onto the ship, pulling Snag with her. She resisted the urge to drop to her knees and kiss the wooden deck¨Cmostly because it looked like it had been some time since it had been cleaned. Also, the crew was already staring enough as it was. It was probably best not to give them even more reasons to continue doing so.

    Daana straightened her stance, attempting to appear diplomatic once more. On the inside, however, she was practically giddy with relief. Ha! Take that, Ellisar. Daana, one. Gangplank, zero.

    The sudden rolling sensation beneath her feet caused her to stumble backwards into the taffrail. Her stomach churned in protest, threatening to upend that morning¡¯s breakfast all over her shoes. Oh gods. What was this? Seasick, already? Seven realms, they hadn¡¯t even left the harbor yet! And this was only the bay! The open waters beyond the sheltered alcove would be substantially worse.

    Suddenly, the idea of asphyxiating to death on blood and stomach acid didn¡¯t seem so far-fetched.

    Daana¡¯s panicked gaze swept across the bustling deck. The vessel was even smaller than it had looked from the dock, packed from bow to stern with the crustiest crew she had ever laid eyes upon. A particularly malnourished looking individual accepted Wormy¡¯s braided lead from Ashwyn with a grunt. He led the scruffy horse towards the crowd working the pulley system, lowering the rest of the livestock into the animal pens below deck.

    The crewmember¡¯s one glazed eye looked Daana up and down as he passed, uttering something under his breath about the sudden surplus of fresh, young meat.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± Daana whirled back around, heat rushing to her ears. ¡°I changed my mind. We¡¯re walking!¡±

    So what if the journey took a few extra weeks? She¡¯d already survived one ship wreck and that had been enough for a lifetime. And anyway, Snag was right. Out on the open sea there would be no place to run in the event of trouble. As formidable as her party was, they were heavily outnumbered and no match for an entire crew. She didn¡¯t know why she¡¯d agreed to this stupid plan in the first place. Walking was obviously the more practical option.

    Daana¡¯s plan to scuttle back down the rickety gangplank was thwarted by Ashwyn. The orc reached out and caught her under the arm, pulling a desperately struggling Daana with her whether she wanted to or not. ¡°Oh miss, you can¡¯t let your fears get to you like that. We¡¯ve already made the arrangements and the money¡¯s been spent. There¡¯s no sense in letting all that go to waste.¡±

    ¡°Let go! I don¡¯t want to do this anymore. I want to live!¡±

 151 - Symbol Of Power

    The breezy air was heavy with the funk of salt and sun baked bird shit. Overhead, the harsh cries of seagulls and cormorants intermixed with the roar of the waves crashing along the rock jetty sheltering the bay from the might of the open ocean. Daana noticed none of this over the frantic beating of her own heart as she twisted and pulled, attempting to break free of Ashwyn¡¯s vise-like grip.

    ¡°Unhand me!¡±

    ¡°Oh sweet goddess, child. You are one for the dramatics today. What has gotten into you?¡± Ashwyn grumbled as she tugged Daana along behind her. Their progress would have been swifter had Daana not planted both feet firmly against the worn wood deck and was actively pushing in the opposite direction. It wasn¡¯t working as effectively as she intended, but at the very least, it was slowing them down.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a child!¡± Despite her best efforts, the worn tread of her boots was no match for the orc¡¯s raw strength. Daana¡¯s feet slid out from under her and she landed hard on her ass. To her dismay, the undignified pulling did not stop and she was dragged with the seat of her pants catching every snag and splinter along the way.

    ¡°And it¡¯s sense, by the way,¡± Daana added. ¡°Sense has gotten into me and I don¡¯t want to do this anymore!¡±

    Her rescue came from the most unlikely of sources. Ellisar stepped forward, blocking Ashwyn¡¯s path. Her arms were locked tight across her posh green and silver embroidered frock coat. ¡°Hold up. It¡¯s Daana¡¯s call, isn¡¯t it? If she wants off the boat, let her.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you, Ellisar! Let¡¯s do that!¡± Daana had never imagined these particular words to spill forth from her mouth, but here she was. Intentional ploy to derail the trip aside, it was nice that she and Ellisar were finally seeing eye-to-eye on something. Who knows, perhaps Daana would buy the elf a drink afterwards. Together, blessedly intoxicated and with their feet planted firmly on sweet, sweet dry land, they could commiserate over whoever¡¯s stupid idea it was to go by boat.

    Unfortunately, the person responsible for said idea was not so easily swayed. ¡°Normally, I would agree,¡± Ashwyn said, grunting as she lifted Daana by the arm and set her back onto her feet. ¡°But she¡¯s clearly not thinking with her smart brain at the moment. Poor thing¡¯s gone floppy. Some food and a little rest should have her right as rain in no time.¡±

    More words passed between the pair, but Daana couldn¡¯t decipher them over the sounds of her own mounting panic. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears like a war drum. Despite the frosty, salt-laced wind, the skin on her face burned to the touch. The only other sound she could hear was the crashing waves as they struck the jetty from across the bay. Slam, crash, boom. Slam, crash, boom¨Cit grew louder, and louder, and louder.

    She had to get away, now, before her panic overwhelmed her completely. And yet, no matter how she tried, she couldn¡¯t wrench free of Ashwyn¡¯s grip. The orc was simply too strong to overpower.

    There is one way.

    The thought caught her by surprise. Although she hadn¡¯t had much use for them since the incident on the mountain, Daana had kept the armlets that¡¯d helped make her the most infamous seeker back at the Division of Divination. Corrupt or not, you didn¡¯t just part with something that powerful on a whim. There was even a little bit of magic left in the stones. Not a lot, but enough in case of emergencies. And this certainly felt like an emergency.

    Daana swung her pack around and fought to open it with a single hand, sweat gathering along her brow as she concentrated on her work, hoping Ashwyn was too preoccupied to notice. Working the bag open at last, Daana¡¯s hand plunged through her tightly packed belongings until she reached the bottom. She spread her fingers, groping along the strange assortment of personal possessions until her fingertips touched the small, waddled bundle she kept tucked away in the corner. Gripping the wadded sock, she wrenched it free with a single pull, grateful she didn¡¯t empty the contents of her bag as she did so.

    She had to get free. She had to return to land. Now, before it was too late and she got trapped on this gods-forsaken boat.

    Ashwyn and Ellisar were still arguing, which was fortunate because it meant they hadn¡¯t yet noticed what Daana was doing. Alas, this also meant Ashwyn¡¯s firm grip kept tightening around Daana¡¯s left arm, leaving her with the awkward challenge of trying to unravel the wadded sock one-handed. In the end, it didn¡¯t matter. The power stored within the stones sprang to life, reaching out to her with the sweetest of songs as it wormed its way through the material and up her arm. The familiar warmth of magic lit a fire within her bones that had been long extinguished.

    The sweat on Daana¡¯s brow was slick and beginning to drip down her nose. She ignored it, consumed with the raging heat building within her core. Get out. Get free. The words echoed across her mind as the icy panic running rampant through her veins melted away.

    Was this the way, though? Was she sure? After all, she¡¯d sworn off magic. Ever since she¡¯d helped banish the dark spirit on the mountain, her powers hadn¡¯t operated the same. No matter how slow she took things or tried to ease back in with a simple spell, something inside her would lose control. A simple flame spell had turned downright disastrous a few months back. What if it happened again?

    Get out. Get free. Use it and no one will be able to hurt you again.

    ¡°Daana?¡±

    She nearly jumped out of her skin when a clammy, leathery hand touched her own. Shaking the thoughts from her head, Daana realized she¡¯d forgotten all about Snag. He stood beside her, gazing up with wide, yellow eyes rimmed in worry. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for my fretting to get in your head,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine. Ships make the crossing all the time. We¡¯ve survived a lot worse than this, you an¡¯ me.¡±

    Daana barely recognized her own whispered voice. ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Give yourself some credit, girl. You¡¯ve done far scarier shit than this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ellisar agreed, breaking from her conversation to contribute her thoughts on the matter. ¡°Like what you did in Alkurth. Who could forget that?¡±

    The empty pit churning within Daana¡¯s stomach felt as though it was going to open up and swallow her whole. There wasn¡¯t any need to round on Ellisar as Snag was doing a well enough job of it on his own. ¡°Knock it off, El! We agreed we weren¡¯t going to bring that up anymore.¡±

    Ashwyn, still gripping Daana¡¯s arm like a vise, leaned closer to Ellisar and murmured, ¡°What happened in Alkurth?¡±

    ¡°She burnt the city to the ground.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The orc¡¯s grasp lessened for a split second before she re-committed, perhaps just a touch rougher than before. Ashwyn¡¯s dark eyes roved back and forth across the crowded deck, assessing whether it was safe to make her inquiries here or save it for somewhere more private. The busy crew paid them no mind as they hustled about preparing the vessel for launch, allowing Ashwyn¡¯s curiosity to get the better of her. ¡°You mean with, like, torches, right?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s the daughter of she-who-will-not-be-named,¡± Ellisar replied flatly. ¡°If it involved torches, do you think I would be mentioning it right now?¡±

    ¡°But I thought Daana wasn¡¯t capable of¡­you-know-what.¡±

    ¡°Oh definitely capable. Maybe a little too much at times.¡±

    ¡°Which is why she swore off it for good.¡± Snag stepped forward, still glaring daggers at Ellisar for spilling what they had all previously agreed to take to their graves. He fiddled with the black and gold cane in his hand, seemingly torn between whapping the elf across the knees with it or slamming the metal tip against the deck.

    ¡°Only ¡®cause you made a stink about it,¡± Ellisar said. ¡°I maintain that Daana should have stuck with the cursed magic. That kind of power is sure to come in handy, you know.¡±

    ¡°It was killing her!¡±

    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t have stopped her, Snag.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it would have! Not everyone is a chaos monster like you!¡± Fury won out at last and Snag¡¯s cane struck the deck with a resounding slam.

    ¡°Then explain why she¡¯s got her armlets in her hand.¡± Ellisar tilted her head at Daana. The wind tore at her neatly brushed hair, undoing hours of tedious plating. ¡°That¡¯s right. I went through your bag a ways back. You never got rid of those like you said.¡±

    Some of the fury dissolved from Snag¡¯s curled expression. He whipped his head to look at Daana, hurt tugging along the edges of his jagged mouth. ¡°Daana?¡±

    Daana¡¯s panicked gaze shifted from him to the bundle clenched in her hand. The bubbling heat within her chest fizzled out as quickly as it had come. Oh gods, what was she doing? This wasn¡¯t the way. She¡¯d let fear get the best of her and nearly allowed herself to lose control. ¡°I, uh, was just¡­¡±

    ¡°About to blast the ship to pieces,¡± Ellisar helpfully finished the sentence for her.

    Snag wasn¡¯t taking the news nearly as well as Ellisar. ¡°Seven realms, Daana! You tryin¡¯ to kill us? Why would you even keep those?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be helpless, okay? I¡¯m not like you. I don¡¯t have the means to defend myself. I just wanted to¨C¡±

    The corner of Snag¡¯s eyes twitched as he thrust his clawed finger in the direction of the water. ¡°Do like you should have done two months ago and throw those damned things overboard!¡±

    ¡°Sweet goddess, Snag,¡± Ellisar rolled her head back with a groan. ¡°It¡¯s an empty gesture and you know it. They¡¯re a symbol of her power, not the real thing. You want to get rid of the cursed magic? You¡¯ve got to throw her overboard too.¡±

    Snag appeared furious enough to try.

    Ashwyn intervened before he had the chance. She unlocked Daana¡¯s arm from her own and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder instead. ¡°I¡¯m obviously a little lost here. What¡¯s with the sock?¡±

    Wordlessly, Daana peeled back the wool fabric, revealing the pair of leather armlets with matching amethyst stones.

    Ashwyn¡¯s brow furrowed as she bent her head for a closer look. ¡°That¡¯s not making this any clearer. Someone tell me what I¡¯m looking at here?¡±

    Snag obliged her. ¡°Daana used the magic stored in those stones to burn down Alkurth.¡±

    ¡°Accidently!¡± Why was everyone glossing over that? It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d meant to! ¡°And it wasn¡¯t the whole city, either. It was just the city watch building!¡±

    Alright, a handful of shops near the city watch might have caught flame as well. And then a few stables and whatever structures butted up alongside them. All in all, it had been maybe a city block, at most. Which, again, had been a complete accident¨CDaana¡¯s part in starting the fire, anyway. As much as she would love to point fingers at Ellisar for making the night in question substantially worse, it was best just to leave the whole ordeal behind them and never speak of it again.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Ashwyn said in the tone of voice that implied she didn¡¯t understand but also likely had no desire to. ¡°And why are we not throwing the jewelry in the ocean? Seems like a pretty straightforward plan.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Snag said.

    Ellisar disagreed, widening her defiant stance. ¡°Because it¡¯s the only thing that makes her useful.¡±

    ¡°May I propose a compromise then?¡± the orc offered. ¡°How about instead of allowing Daana to carry them, the stones are entrusted into my care for the meantime? Boat doesn¡¯t get burned to a crisp, we make the journey safe and sound, everyone lives, but we have the option to use the magic if necessary? How¡¯s that sound?¡±

    Daana perked at the idea. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Ashwyn outstretched her hand and, after taking a moment to safely bundle the contents back into the sock, Daana placed them into her hand. The pair shared a warm smile. It was a beautiful, trusting moment that was over in the time it took Ashwyn to coil her arm behind her and lob the bundle as far out over the water as she could. The sock sailed a ways before disappearing beneath the undulating surface with an inaudible splash.

    Ellisar cupped her hands to her mouth. ¡°Boo!¡±

    ¡°Glad we got that taken care of.¡± Once more, Ashwyn¡¯s hand encircled Daana¡¯s arm as she pulled her towards the cabin area. The journey went much smoother without Daana resisting. She didn¡¯t dare this time. ¡°Now let¡¯s get to our lodging. I suspect there¡¯s a lot more you three aren¡¯t telling me and this Alkurth business is just the tip of the iceberg.¡±

    Daana glanced behind her and immediately regretted it. Snag was still glaring at her, teeth clenched so hard, he looked to be on the verge of drawing blood. She turned around again, stomach dropping lower as the cabin neared. Alas, despite her vigilant attempts to keep the infamous Alkurth incident locked away in her memory forever, it had an annoying habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient of times.

    Daana¡¯s fingers twitched as an insatiable itch clawed up her hand. Clenching her fist, she tucked the unruly appendage into her coat pocket before anyone took notice. The dread pooling in her chest doubled as she walked. The magic, as brief as its contact had been, had stirred the monster lurking beneath her skin.

 152 - What Happens In Alkurth...

    Their cabin, the room equivalent of a musty shoebox, normally functioned as the first officer¡¯s private quarters. Ellisar convinced him to rent the cabin to them in exchange for a generous handful of coins¨Cfreshly picked from someone else¡¯s pocket, no doubt. The cabin was located on the quarter deck and consisted of four bare, timber walls, a grease stained floor, and a small table with chairs. A single bed was shoved against the aft-facing wall, above which hung the cabin¡¯s only window.

    Daana shuffled to the back wall as she took in the full scope of what would be home for the next two weeks. Normally she would have been more perturbed by the single bed. At the moment, however, she was more concerned with whether or not the rounded window nestled above it actually opened. With the way Snag was glaring at her, she felt suddenly inspired to jump through it.

    Snag was seated at the table in the middle of the room. Ellisar was beside him, leaning uncomfortably close to the first officer, who seemed to be having some trouble remembering the correct method for counting to thirty. After double checking his fee had not been shorted, the man swept the loose money into a bag and stuffed it into his pocket. He stood, casting a final suspicious look at his cabin¡¯s new occupants, before hiking up his sagging breeches and sauntering towards the open door.

    ¡°Will you be needing anything else?¡± he said.

    Daana suspected it wasn¡¯t so much of an offer for further assistance as it was a declaration that their business was concluded and if they wanted anything else, it would come at a cost. Snag was still too preoccupied with glaring at Daana to respond, leaving the honor to his less than enthusiastic business partner.

    Ellisar waved the man with a disinterested flick of her hand. ¡°No, be gone.¡±

    Clasping one hand firmly to his now bulging pocket, the first officer ducked out of the open doorway and scurried off to go stash his treasure elsewhere.

    ¡°Lowly servant,¡± Ellisar called to Ashwyn, ¡°shut the door already. It¡¯s letting in a draft.¡±

    Ashwyn stood tucked alongside the entrance. Having resumed her role of the ¡®strong but silent¡¯ bodyguard for the duration of the transaction, she hadn¡¯t spoken a word since, resigned to a hostile silence that could be felt from all the way across the room. Her scowl deepened as she swung the door shut with a slam and started towards the table.

    ¡°And the lock,¡± Ellisar reminded her.

    Clenching her teeth, Ashwyn backtracked several steps and fitted the wooden drawbar into place. With the room''s main source of fresh air now gone, the pungent smell of water-damaged timber clouded the air so thick, it bordered on smothering. Darkness permeated the cabin. Daana blinked as her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom, vaguely aware that the twitch in her hand had started anew.

    ¡°You know, this plan of yours isn¡¯t all bad. I do enjoy ordering you around for a change.¡± Ellisar paused, allowing a rare smirk to pull at the corner of her sharp mouth. ¡°We could make a game of it.¡±

    Snag grimaced at her words. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°How can you possibly be thinking about anything else after what just happened out on the deck?¡±

    ¡°You mean all of my coy flirting?¡±

    Snag finally broke his unrelenting eye contact with Daana to whip his head around at Ellisar, earrings jingling. ¡°How high are you, right now? Because I was out on that deck just the same as you, and flirting was the last thing that was going on!¡±

    Ellisar tracked Ashwyn¡¯s movements, watching as the orc trudged across the small cabin and dropped into the open chair to her left. ¡°For you maybe,¡± the elf said. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to work the missus into an angry rumpy-pumpy session all morning. With all this blasted boat business, my needs have gone to the wayside.¡±

    ¡°You did it last night!¡±

    ¡°Only once, though. And barely a cuddle this morning. I lash out when I feel neglected, you know.¡± Ellisar slid her hand across the table and placed it over Ashwyn¡¯s, watching the orc¡¯s expression for tells as she did so.

    Wordlessly, Ashwyn removed her hand from the table altogether and placed it in her lap, out of reach.

    ¡°Think you might have pushed too far,¡± Snag remarked. His yellow eyes darted back in Daana¡¯s direction and narrowed. ¡°Seems to be a common theme today.¡±

    Daana¡¯s stomach dropped as the sting of humiliation crept across her nose. Although the crushing weight of her panic had settled some upon entering the cabin, she still could not shake the urge to run. Doubly so now that Snag remembered she existed and was back to watching her every move. Daana placed her hand against the cold glass of the window, cursing it for being far too small to jump through.

    Clunk!

    The table lurched behind her, drawing Daana¡¯s attention back to the center of the cabin. Ashwyn was scowling down at Ellisar, who¡¯s own pinched expression appeared to be caught somewhere between pain and ecstasy. ¡°Alright, footsies are off the table,¡± Ellisar wheezed around the breath caught in her throat. ¡°Message received loud and clear.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not getting a lick of attention until you¡¯ve explained what the fuck is going on.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s clenched fist struck the table with a slam. ¡°Starting with why in goddess¡¯s name you didn¡¯t tell me we¡¯ve had an unstable witch in our midst this entire time!¡±

    Ellisar drew her leg up into the chair and cradled her smarting foot. ¡°Witch is generous, but I see your point.¡±

    ¡°No wonder you fought the stupid boat idea so hard! I should have known something was fishy when you¨Cyou, who fucking loves being on the open water¨Cwanted nothing to do with it. I thought you were dragging your feet because of the ex, not because Daana¡¯s been burning her way through the realm!¡±

    ¡°Is now a good time to point out that the ex is still my main reason for being difficult?¡± The resulting glare from Ashwyn forced Ellisar to reconsider her strategy. A strategy blatantly void of groveling or even the slightest form of apology, of course. ¡°Alright, yes. We probably should have mentioned Alkurth before. But we¡¯ve been through so much fucked-up shit in the last six months, it all starts to blur. Nothing sticks out as extraordinary anymore. There was everything that went down on the mountain, a battle with magic flying everywhere, a dragon, a flood. Honestly, Daana burning a city to the ground felt like small potatoes in comparison.¡±

    ¡°For the last time, it wasn¡¯t the whole city!¡± To her horror, Daana realized her unruly mouth had betrayed her once more. Well shit. Seeing as she already had everyone¡¯s attention, she supposed it wouldn¡¯t hurt to correct Ashwyn¡¯s other highly incorrect assumption. ¡°And, again, as I have pointed out numerous times, I am not a witch.¡±

    There was a fourth, empty wooden chair tucked beneath the rickety table. Ashwyn kicked it out from under the table in an unspoken invitation to join the conversation.

    Daana¡¯s gaze darted past them towards the barred doorway, debating whether it was even worth the effort to reiterate what everyone obviously already knew¨Cthat she was a fuck up and that agreeing to deliver her to her mother had been cursed from the start. She could still hear the bustling crew scuttling across the deck beyond the cabin. The Ducky Luck had yet to launch, meaning she could simply waltz back down the deck and disappear if she truly wanted.

    Ultimately, it was Snag¡¯s expression that gave her pause. Daana was convinced he hadn¡¯t blinked in nearly ten minutes. Stifling a sigh, she moved to the table and sank into the chair.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°You were saying?¡± Ashwyn prompted.

    Right. Staying had only been half the battle. Regretfully, that still left the talking part to muddle through.

    Daana slumped lower. ¡°I¡¯m sort of a dysfunctioning half step between a witch and a magic-sensitive person. I don¡¯t have magic of my own, but I can use the magic of others under the right circumstances. Those stones you threw overboard were a means for me to store magic when there wasn¡¯t a readily available supply nearby.¡±

    ¡°Sounds an awful lot like a witch to me,¡± Ashwyn grumbled. ¡°So what¡¯s the deal? Is your control shit or something?¡±

    Daana stiffened at the insult. ¡°It¡¯s not shit!¡±

    Ellisar snickered, but it was the low growl from Snag that wilted any remaining argument from Daana¡¯s tongue.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that my powers weren¡¯t this strong before. I used to be able to control them without any issue, but after, well, this¡± ¨CDaana pulled her sleeve back to expose the branching veins on her wrist¨C ¡°it hasn¡¯t been the same. Something from that mountain latched onto me and ever since, it feels like my powers have been supercharged. A simple push spell levels a city wall and no matter how hard I try, I can¡¯t seem to get a handle on it.¡±

    ¡°And each time you do, it causes the infection to spread.¡± Snag¡¯s tiny fist struck the tabletop, causing the ancient wood to tremble in protest. ¡°Which is why we agreed you would retire from magic!¡±

    Behind the anger, Daana sensed a deep disappointment. Regret pooled in her chest as she stared down at the chipped tabletop, unable to meet his gaze without flinching. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Snag.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be. Keeping the stones was the first badass thing you¡¯ve done.¡± Ellisar added with a shrug, ¡°Besides the fire, of course. Gonna be hard to top that.¡±

    ¡°You!¡± Snag wagged his claw at Ellisar, shoulders bristled for a fight. ¡°Stop encouraging this! You understand her carelessness not only puts her life at stake, but ours as well, right? We¡¯re gambling with death each time she taps into her power.¡±

    ¡°Meh.¡±

    ¡°Meh? She¡¯s putting our lives at risk and that¡¯s all you can say? Meh!¡± A second shrug from Ellisar caused Snag to throw his scrawny arms into the air above his head, shouting, ¡°Why do I even bother trying to talk sense into you? You¡¯re perfectly content to watch the world burn, with us right in the thick of it!¡±

    Ashwyn pinched the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. ¡°You know, it would be a lot easier knowing how pissed I¡¯m supposed to be if someone told me what actually happened.¡±

    Daana supposed it would be better if the explanation came from her, if only to prevent Ellisar from including some of the more colorful details that really had no impact on the story whatsoever. ¡°It was an innocent mistake, honest. Ellisar and I got pulled in by the city watch and thrown into a holding cell for the night. We were both a little plastered and¨C¡±

    Ashwyn held up her hand. ¡°For what?¡±

    Daana didn¡¯t know whether the lurch in her stomach was due to the question or the shifting of the waves beneath her. ¡°Come again?¡±

    ¡°You got pulled in by the city watch for what?¡±

    ¡°Prostitution.¡± Ellisar held the palms of her hands in the air to mockingly ward off Daana¡¯s glare. ¡°Sorry, attempted prostitution without a license. Ya happy?¡±

    ¡°No, actually,¡± Daana said. ¡°I¡¯m not. Because I never asked for your involvement in the matter to begin with. You took it upon yourself to find me a lover and got us both thrown in jail because of it!¡±

    ¡°Admittedly, offering money to an off duty officer was not my best idea. In my defense, however, he wasn¡¯t wearing a uniform and I was drunk off my ass. You¡¯d been so uptight, I thought a good romp would make you more tolerable.¡±

    Daana desperately wanted to sink into the floor. Alas, the cat was out of the bag now and there would be no shoving it back in. She opted to move the retelling along to the part that actually mattered. ¡°While in the cell, Ellisar said to create a distraction while she popped the lock. I only meant to start a small desk fire, but things quickly got out of hand.¡±

    ¡°The important thing is I got us out.¡± Ellisar tilted the chair back on two legs and folded her hands behind her head. ¡°Even had time to stop and retrieve our belongings before the entire building was engulfed in flames. All in all, one of our better getaways, I¡¯d wager.¡±

    Daana desperately wanted to kick Ellisar¡¯s chair off balance. She stretched her right leg as far as it would go, coming to the dismaying conclusion that she¡¯d have to be under the table for it to reach. ¡°I think it¡¯s only fair to mention that, while I might have started the initial fire, the destruction wasn¡¯t purely my doing. Snag¡¯s powder charges played a part, as did the certain someone throwing them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Ellisar agreed. ¡°Our best getaway ever.¡±

    For some uncanny reason, Ellisar¡¯s words sparked a twinge of pride within Daana¡¯s sinking soul. The feeling was fleeting, however, and Daana¡¯s momentary elation was immediately brought back down by the presence of the scowling goblin beside her. Wordless, Snag¡¯s curled expression spoke volumes on its own, something to the tune of: ¡®We do not seek validation from Ellisar¡¯.

    Ashwyn drummed her fingertips against the table in thought. ¡°Daana, you said your powers only work if you have access to a magical source, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And now that I tossed your pretty little stones overboard, you no longer have access to said magical source?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She could pull from witches too, but that seemed redundant to bring up at this point. Daana hadn¡¯t felt any source of magic since boarding the ship. Rich merchant and war ships had uses for magic, certainly, but cargo vessels such as this simply could not afford to keep a witch on the payroll. For the better, probably, in Daana¡¯s case. Although the twitching in her fingers had eased, the irresistible itch crawling beneath her skin was still alive and well. Perhaps a few weeks at sea, free of magical temptation, was just what she needed to get it out of her system.

    Ashwyn was busy talking herself through a rundown of everything she¡¯d just learned. ¡°So you¡¯re not a witch, but you can use magic¨Cpoorly, from the sounds of it. Which is why after burning parts of Alkurth to the ground, you swore off magic completely. Right up until just a few moments ago.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s understanding hit a dead-end, prompting the orc to tilt her head at Daana quizzically. ¡°I¡¯m still not sure how that ties in. Remind me again, what possessed you to drag out your shiny stones of destruction back there on the deck?¡±

    Daana rubbed the edge of her elbow as she tried to explain her reasoning without sounding unhinged. ¡°I just have a thing with ships and water. I panicked and¡­¡±

    ¡°Almost blew us to smithereens,¡± Ellisar finished helpfully for her.

    The table lurched a second time as someone¡¯s foot nearly sent Ellisar spilling to the floor. Ashwyn kept her focus on Daana, pretending as though she had no idea where the kick had come from. ¡°Because you felt helpless?¡±

    She hated how easily her overreaction could be summed up in a matter of words. What¡¯s worse, they were stupid words. Stupid words for a stupid problem, all befitting the equally stupid girl to whom they were directed. Daana¡¯s response tasted bitter on her tongue. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well the solution seems simple then.¡± Daana didn¡¯t like the sudden calm, confident tone Ashwyn had switched to. She didn¡¯t dare question it, though, and sat silent instead, dreading what sort of resolution the orc was about to present. ¡°We teach you to fight. That way I get to kick your ass on the regular, you learn not to be so helpless, and start to actually pull your weight for a change¨Ca real win-win all around.¡±

    That didn¡¯t actually sound too bad. Unfortunately, her confounded mouth had to go and open, allowing the first thought in her head to come tumbling out. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°It?¡± Ellisar repeated. ¡°What, were you expecting more? Sweet goddess, Daana, she¡¯s not your mother. Keep your weird power fantasies to yourself. Ashwyn¡¯s already got more than she can handle with me.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me? I am well versed at handling you, miss. Right side up, upside down, sideways sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Stop, you¡¯re making me all steamy.¡± Ellisar was up and out of her chair in the blink of an eye. She slumped over the back of Ashwyn, draping her lanky arms over the orc¡¯s shoulders and down her front, whilst whispering in her ear at a volume that was, regrettably, impossible not to overhear. ¡°Are you finished playing scary orc interrogator yet? Because it gave me some ideas.¡±

    While Ashwyn¡¯s scowl remained stubbornly fixed in place, the harsh glint within her eyes softened. ¡°Now?¡± was the only thing she said.

    ¡°Yes, now.¡± Ellisar nuzzled her face against the orc¡¯s neck. ¡°You look fit to burst and I¡¯ve been begging for your undivided attention all day.¡±

    ¡°You realize we share a cabin, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Ellisar hooked her arm though Ashwyn¡¯s and made a rather futile attempt to pull her from the chair. It didn¡¯t stop her from trying, however. Remarkably, she managed to drag both the orc and the chair several inches closer to the barred doorway. ¡°Come on. I saw a dark, secluded little nook on the way in. If you can keep from drawing blood when you bite, nobody will even know we¡¯re there. Besides,¡± Ellisar said, glancing over her shoulder at the table¡¯s remaining occupants, ¡°Snag looks like he¡¯s got something to say and believe me, you do not want to be around when he pops off.¡±

    Against her better judgment, Daana stole a glance at Snag from the corner of her eye. The state of his face made Daana suddenly wish she¡¯d been invited to tag along. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t even have the opportunity to stand before Ashwyn and Ellisar were up and out the door, slamming it shut behind them.

    The silence that followed was suffocatingly thick. Daana drew a breath, managing a single word. ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk,¡± he snapped.

    ¡°But¨C¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough out of you already. You want to convince me you¡¯re no longer a stupid little girl?¡± Snag stood, shoving away from the table. ¡°Then start acting like it.¡±

 153 - The Dirty Rotten Role Reversal

    Oralia¡¯s clothes clung to her skin uncomfortably tight. To her annoyance, no amount of tugging could keep her linen undershirt from riding up past her stomach. The stubborn garment moved with a mind of its own, bunching beneath her leather jerkin despite how many times she yanked it back down. The only reason the infernal shirt hadn¡¯t navigated all the way up to her neck was on account of her chest, which was currently serving as an unwitting barricade. Those, too, were being unreasonably annoying. As of late, no manner of binding seemed to keep the pair under control. Her flesh was heavy, and ached¨Cand gods forbid she complain about it without someone commenting about it being her time of the month!

    Oralia clicked her tusks at the thought. If she received one more offhand remark about her body¡¯s cursed reproductive cycle, she would ensure the speaker wouldn¡¯t live to see another month again.

    ¡°You doing alright there, boss?¡± Rali¡¯s voice called from beside her.

    Oralia stopped fidgeting with her clothing, painfully aware once more that she was not alone and probably making a scene. Oralia chose not to answer the question directly, as Rali likely already knew her answer. ¡°I will be substantially better once we are on the road.¡±

    ¡°Told you we should have slipped out before dawn.¡±

    ¡°That you did,¡± Oralia sighed, opting to keep the addition of ¡®and I regret not listening to you¡¯ to herself.

    Her irritated gaze swept across the bustling streetway. There was a crowd gathered at the city gates twice the size of the last one to see Oralia¡¯s team on their way. A makeshift platform had been erected alongside the wall. Some official dressed in a garish tunic and tights was atop it, pouring their soul into a heartfelt speech, tears and all. As much as Oralia would have preferred to sneak out unnoticed, their need for supplies and a few pack animals capable of carrying it all had slowed her departure by several days, giving the city time to amass a going-away party.

    Included amongst the theatrics was a token of honor that, from Oralia¡¯s position as far away from the platform as she could manage, looked to be a repurposed brass medallion on a ribbon necklace. She half wondered if the words ¡®first place for half yard sprint¡¯ were still etched into the metal or if they¡¯d managed to get it buffed out in time. As she had no desire to partake in the political theatre, she¡¯d sent Ellisar¡¯s body double in her place instead. Kalihn beamed bright, enjoying every moment of the attention as she accepted the award with far too much grace to be believable.

    Shifting her gaze, Oralia spied Captain Bernstein several persons down from where she and Rali lingered at the back of the crowd. He was doing his best to keep his composure, but every time he looked in Rali¡¯s direction, his proud shoulders drooped just a little farther. If Oralia¡¯s team lingered at the gates any longer, someone would have to scrape the poor captain off of the cobblestones afterwards. It wasn¡¯t helping that each time he worked up the nerve to approach, one of the Stoneclaw brothers would hook their arm through his and drag him away, insistent on knowing the history of some mundane piece of architecture.

    Judging from Rali¡¯s stiff posture, it was highly likely that she had orchestrated the interference herself. A means to avoid hearing whatever was on the captain¡¯s mind, no doubt.

    While it didn¡¯t solve the issue with her clothing, a little teasing would, at the very least, provide a momentary distraction from her growing list of bodily discomforts. Oralia leaned closer, whispering to Rali, ¡°Is that the captain¡¯s jacket you are wearing?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The dwarf¡¯s brown eyes bulged, nearly doubling size. ¡°No!¡±

    ¡°It is. I can smell it. He wears a very unique cologne.¡± Sandstone and cypress, if her nose was to be believed.

    Rali¡¯s lower jaw opened and shut, but strangely no words came forth. What a rare treat, Oralia thought, catching her mouthy lieutenant so off guard she couldn¡¯t even form a half-assed retort.

    ¡°I do not know how you manage, Ralizak. It was only a few hours before dawn when you staggered out of my apartment this morning.¡± Oralia watched from the corner of her eye as Rali¡¯s face went from pale to beet red. ¡°Did you get any sleep?¡±

    ¡°As a matter of fact, I did.¡±

    ¡°Ah, must have been between rounds then. Good for you.¡±

    Rali whirled around, wagging her finger at Oralia as she hissed between her teeth, ¡°I know you think you¡¯re funny, switching the roles around on me so that you¡¯re the one giving me shit about my romantic life for once, but I¡¯ll have you know it¡¯s not working.¡±

    ¡°Clearly.¡±

    ¡°I just wanted a little company, is all. There¡¯s nothing wrong with that!¡±

    ¡°As I said, good for you.¡±

    ¡°And so what if I¡¯m wearing his jacket? I left mine at your place and I was cold. I¡¯m only borrowing it. It doesn¡¯t mean anything. Stop reading into it!¡±

    Having had her fun, Oralia paced her hand on Rali¡¯s shoulder and smiled. ¡°It is a good look on you.¡±

    Rali¡¯s rigid shoulders deflated beneath Oralia¡¯s touch. With eyes wide and filled with dread, the dwarf¡¯s listless gaze slowly swept across the gathering, as though seeing, but not taking any of it in. ¡°I think he¡¯s going to ask me to stay.¡±

    ¡°Gods, Rali.¡± It was Oralia¡¯s turn to go ashen in the face. ¡°It was only one night!¡±

    Rali¡¯s wilting expression begged to differ.

    ¡°No?¡± It wasn¡¯t so much a question as it was a statement of utter disbelief. ¡°How long has this been going on?¡±

    ¡°A few weeks¡­¡± The dwarf¡¯s voice trailed, before adding, ¡°After we arrived here in Fairguard.¡±

    ¡°You have been in a secret relationship for two months?¡± The signs had been there all along, Oralia supposed. The coy glances, the smiles, the way Rali often threw things at the back of the captain¡¯s head and then ran. Oralia hadn¡¯t realized what had been taking place between the two constituted flirting but, then again, she had never been well versed in the art of flirtation to begin with. The only reason she¡¯d ever caught on that Sascha had feelings for her was because he said so, to her face, repeatedly.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Alright, hold it right there, miss.¡± Some of Rali¡¯s fire returned and she went back to throwing her fingers in the air. ¡°One, it¡¯s not a relationship. You know I don¡¯t get involved with those. It¡¯s like, I dunno, a fling, I guess? And, two¨C¡±

    ¡°Does the captain know it is only a fling?¡± Oralia interrupted. Again, while not well versed in the courting practices of dwarfs by any means, it seemed unlikely that a mere ¡®fling¡¯ of any walk-of-life would invite the other half to live with them afterwards. Unless of course Oralia was misinterpreting what ¡®stay¡¯ meant. That one seemed rather straightforward, though.

    Rali ignored Oralia¡¯s question in favor of powering right on through to her next point. ¡°Secondly, just because you didn¡¯t know, doesn¡¯t mean it was a secret.¡±

    The revelation stung more than she expected it to. Oralia¡¯s jaw dropped in disbelief. ¡°You told someone else before me?¡±

    Rali must have caught the hurt on Oralia¡¯s face. Her arms dropped to her sides as she issued a remorseful sigh. ¡°Well, no, not exactly. I intended to keep it a secret, but then Mul went and barged into my room without knocking one night and saw more than he bargained for. The little shit still hasn¡¯t let me live it down. This whole stupid courting me thing was his misguided attempt at blackmail. Was anyway. Now he does it just because he thinks it¡¯s funny.¡±

    That was a lot of information to process. Amidst the deluge of tiny revelations, Oralia noted the suspicious lack of details concerning the captain and his would-be proposal. ¡°Rali, are you,¡± she paused, unsure if she even wanted an answer on the subject, ¡°considering staying?¡±

    Rali¡¯s eyebrows pressed together into a dark line. ¡°What the fuck did you just say?¡±

    ¡°It is alright if you are. You are allowed to make your own¨C¡±

    ¡°Are you out of your blooming mind? How dare you!¡±

    Rolling her eyes, Oralia resigned herself to silence, allowing Rali¡¯s outrage to run its loud and, inevitably, short course.

    ¡°No! We¡¯ve got schemes in the works! And we both know you can¡¯t get shit done without me.¡±

    That much was true. And as dearly as it pained Oralia to break up whatever was or was not going on between them, she needed Rali by her side for the trials to come. It seemed only fair considering their current scheme was mostly Rali¡¯s idea, after all. Although Oralia agreed on the principle of the mission, she still didn¡¯t see why she had to spearhead the damn thing. Let someone else save mortal-kind for once! She was old. She was tired. Her feet hurt. Risking life and limb was a young person¡¯s game.

    The last one, she vowed to herself, full well knowing even she didn¡¯t believe it. It was a nice thought, though.

    A startled cry caused Oralia to turn her head. She watched as the Stoneclaw brothers dragged Captain Bernstein further away, once more, talking loudly over his weak protests. ¡°I have never seen Mul and Lingon quite so enamored with the captain before,¡± Oralia remarked. ¡°I shudder to think how much it cost you, Ralizak.¡±

    ¡°Who said I had anything to do with that?¡±

    ¡°Your face.¡±

    ¡°Ugh. Do you know how much booze I had to fork over to get those two numbskulls to do what they normally do for free any other day of the week? Too much!¡± Rali crossed her arms with a scowl. ¡°Mul offered to do it for a kiss, of course. I countered with my fist instead and then after some posturing we settled on a compromise that didn¡¯t involve me strangling him.¡±

    They exchanged knowing glances.

    Rali pursed her lips, allowing Oralia¡¯s unspoken question to hang in the air over their heads for several seconds, before clarifying the matter. ¡°The strangulation was his idea. Not my thing.¡±

    A faint smile pulled at Oralia¡¯s lips. ¡°And you accuse me of going to great lengths to avoid my feelings.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, boss,¡± Rali said, tugging the ends of her new jacket with a sniff. ¡°All I really wanted was this here fancy new jacket. You know how hard it is for me to find stuff that fits in the shoulders.¡±

    A deafening round of applause sounded as the main speaker stepped away from the makeshift platform and shook hands with Kalihn, signifying the theatrics had come to a close at last. Thank gods.

    ¡°Shall I do the honors?¡± Rali asked.

    ¡°Please, before someone starts another round of speeches.¡±

    The dwarf¡¯s baritone voice rang out across the cobbled road, reverberating off of the stone wall and closest buildings. ¡°Look alive ye swabbies! We¡¯re heading out. Move it or lose it.¡±

    Their departure would have been much swifter had they mounted the horses and taken off at a gallop. Alas, that would have meant leaving Sascha behind as he dared not sit on any animal smaller than an elephant. Kalihn was also a poor rider and probably would have fallen out of the saddle just outside of the gates¨Ccalling into question how the notorious Sergeant Farrow had managed to forget how to ride since her time on the mountain. Thus, they were forced to proceed at a painful walk. Rali, fortunately, was ensuring it was a fast walk at the very least.

    They were through the gates, down the winding dirt road, and into the trees in record time. Behind them, the cheering eventually died down. Oralia kept a watchful eye on the gates in the event the people were cheering because she and her company were finally gone from their city. To her surprise, the gates did not slam shut behind them.

    ¡°Yoohoo! Rali, hold up,¡± Kalihn trotted to the front of the procession where Rali and Oralia strolled together. ¡°Captain Bernstein asked that I give this to you.¡±

    Rali¡¯s stare fixated on the sealed envelope in Kalihn¡¯s hand for longer than necessary. Finally, with her eyes darting back and forth around her to be sure no one else saw, she took the letter and quickly stowed it into the confines of her jacket. ¡°You saw nothing.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s not true. Almas handed me the letter personally and asked that I¨C¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Rali reiterated with a hiss.

    Kalihn held up her palms innocently. ¡°Sure, sure. Whatever you say.¡±

    ¡°And what happened to speaking like a pirate, bucko?¡±

    With a plaintive sigh, Kalihn managed an unenthusiastic, ¡°Aye, aye. Whatever you say, Cap¡¯n.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, let¡¯s discuss this serious lack of commitment to your character. I feel like you still haven¡¯t embraced the true essence of Ellisar.¡±

    ¡°For the last time, I¡¯m not eating slugs.¡±

    ¡°You are doing a marvelous job, Kalihn,¡± Oralia congratulated. ¡°As I mentioned before, now that Fairguard is behind us, there is no reason for you to keep playing the part. You are free to be yourself.¡±

    With her part in securing New Adderwood¡¯s independence complete, Oralia no longer had a need for stand-ins for Ellisar and Snag. Soldiers, however, were a different story. Dewpetal was already proving well worth the money and Oralia was inclined to keep paying the goblin for as long as there were funds to do so. Kalihn was¡­less useful.

    Oralia had done her best to let her off gently, but the elf wouldn¡¯t hear of it. Kalihn insisted she stay on, if not for money, then to make a name for herself. She swore to learn the ropes and prove herself useful, insisting that by the end of the ongoing strife, everyone on the whole continent would be familiar with the name Kalihn Whatever-Her-Surname-Was. Kalihn¡¯s assertation probably would have been more impactful had Oralia bothered to remember the elf¡¯s full name. Oh well.

    ¡°Really?¡± Kalihn perked up at this, her long, golden hair cascading off her shoulder as she did so. ¡°Does that mean Dewpetal and I can stop holding hands now?¡±

    ¡°Holding what?¡± Oralia turned, but Rali was already scuttling away, stifling snorts of laughter with her hands.

 154 - PDA: Public Displays of Awkwardness

    Instructing Kalihn to be herself was a grave mistake. The elf was like a cicada, capable of chirping away for hours on end about absolutely nothing. What¡¯s worse, she¡¯d singled out Oralia as the unwilling audience to her endless babble. From theatre, to literature, to her favorite color, Oralia was certain Kalihn had somehow touched on every topic in existence without imparting anything of actual substance.

    Gentle hints were not working. Nor blatant ones. Oralia even attempted to switch from the head of the procession to the back, but Kalihn followed at her heels, yapping away like an unruly lap dog. Rali¨Cwho was not only unopposed to causing ripples in interpersonal relationships, but delighted in the opportunity¨Cnormally would have interjected on Oralia¡¯s behalf by now. Not today, unfortunately. From the dwarf¡¯s smug smile, the retribution for Oralia¡¯s teasing earlier had unfolded all on its own.

    ¡°Kalihn.¡± Oralia kept her voice low and free of the tone that implied she wanted to bash her own aching skull against any number of the passing trees repeatedly. ¡°We are nearing the Mossborn border. Speak only when necessary.¡±

    ¡°You got it boss,¡± Kalihn whispered back. ¡°It¡¯s remarkable how you can tell we¡¯re near the border without any signs or fences or anything.¡±

    ¡°Truly,¡± Oralia agreed.

    ¡°Just looks like trees to me. Brown ones, gray ones, white speckled ones with¨C¡±

    ¡°I see the trees, Kahlin. You do not have to describe them to me.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. Sorry. I tend to blab when I¡¯m nervous.¡±

    Oralia bit back her reply of ¡®I noticed¡¯, hopeful that if she demonstrated how to keep one¡¯s mouth shut, the elf would follow suit.

    ¡°My friends used to refer to it as flux of the mouth. ¡®Oh there goes, Kalihn again,¡¯ they¡¯d say. ¡®Jabber-jawing away as usual.¡¯¡±

    Oralia tilted her head skyward, cursing the gods above for having such a cruel sense of ironic humor. Talked to death by Ellisar¡¯s stand-in. If Oralia¡¯s demise could not be committed by Ellisar¡¯s hand, it seemed only fitting that it be carried out by her body double.

    Other than Kalihn¡¯s fervent whispering, the serene forest around them was still. A light breeze rippled through the orange and yellow treetops, sending cascades of spent leaves drifting downwards, destined to join the thousands of others spread across the mossy woodland floor. The air was cold and crisp, laden with the pungent stench of autumn decay.

    A single dirt road connected New Adderwood territory to Mossborn. Oralia had kept to the beaten path for as long as she dared. Traveling along an established route, one free of fallen trees and unlevel ground, was undeniably faster. With Mossborn¡¯s border looming in the distance, and their chances of running across a realm patrol increasing with each step, Oralia reluctantly gave the order to move into the trees sometime around mid afternoon. The going went much slower after that. Painfully slow, in fact. At their going rate, they would be lucky to cross the border by nightfall.

    Not that she would be telling Kalihn that.

    ¡°It¡¯s so quiet,¡± the elf remarked nonchalantly, as if unaware her mouth was moving again. ¡°Like eerie quiet.¡±

    Not quiet enough, Oralia thought to herself.

    Scanning the dense forest ahead of her, Oralia¡¯s eyes caught the telltale shape of a man stealthy picking his way towards them. Her sense of smell kept her calm, assuring her that the approaching scout was one of her own. Mul stepped out from behind a towering poplar, its green and yellow leaves shivering in the breeze. He leaned against the trunk of the narrow tree, waiting for the laggers to catch up as he chewed on the root end of a flowering plant.

    ¡°Find something?¡± Oralia asked once she was within a reasonable distance that did not require her to shout.

    ¡°Lots of activity in the area,¡± he said around whatever in the gods¡¯ names it was he was eating. It had a delicate, floral smell that did little to combat his personal aroma of sweat and mud. ¡°I came across an old encampment. Whoever made it left about a week ago, I¡¯d say.¡±

    Oralia merely nodded along to Mul¡¯s report. In addition to realm patrols, they had roving bands of bandits to contend with as well. Adderwood and Mossborn were both expansive sprawls of uninhabited territory, with few towns, a single road, and not enough law enforcement to safeguard either. Oralia knew the bandits would be staying close to the roadway, tucked out of sight, awaiting the opportunity to ambush any unsuspected victims who happened to pass by. Even with a handful of competent warriors at her side, she did not intend to give the bandits the opportunity.

    ¡°Any suitable areas to bed down for the night?¡± Oralia asked.

    Mul scratched his stomach as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m good to bed down with you here if you¡¯re in that much of a hurry. Might get a bit awkward for your beau, though.¡±

    ¡°What happened to wooing Rali?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s enough me for everyone.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s resulting glare did nothing to discourage the cheeky smile split across Mul¡¯s heavily bearded face. It did, at the very least, earn her an actual answer. ¡°There¡¯s an ideal camp spot not too far from here.¡±

    While Oralia did not relish Mul¡¯s impudent nature, she had nothing but respect for his prowess in the field. He was a proficient tracker, capable of reading the signs of the forest and following a trail with the persistence of a bloodhound. It was uncanny how someone so obnoxiously loud could make the switch to silent, stealthy hunter without triggering an identity crisis. It was the Stoneclaw way, Mul insisted. Going on to claim that he¡¯d be dead before any would-be bandits caught him ¡®ass out in a blizzard¡¯.

    Questionable idioms aside, Mul¡¯s expertise meant Oralia did not have to double check whether or not his proposed campsite was well covered, away from the road, and near a source of clean running water. Mul had undoubtedly taken all of this into consideration, and bringing it up would earn her nothing short of mockery.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Oralia congratulated. ¡°We will follow your lead.¡±

    ¡°Finally starting to acknowledge my stellar leadership skills, eh? It¡¯s about fucking time.¡±

    Considering Mul equated leadership with a genitalia measuring contest, Oralia sincerely doubted he possessed any skills to speak of. Reminding him of this, however, would require more mental energy than she currently had. In a move born from pure desperation, Oralia guided Kahlin forward with a strong push of her hand. ¡°There is more to being a leader than being followed, Mul. A good leader must also be a teacher.¡±

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    ¡°Counterpoint,¡± he replied, navigating the chewed root stem to the corner of his mouth. ¡°A good leader recruits good teachers.¡±

    ¡°Congratulations, consider yourself recruited.¡±

    His pale green eyes roved between Oralia and Kalihn, gathering bits of information from Oralia¡¯s body language as he devised a way to use what he found against her. ¡°And rob you of this young lady¡¯s gripping conversation skills? I couldn¡¯t possibly, boss. It¡¯d be cruel of me.¡±

    The true cruelty was that Oralia was still having this conversation. ¡°I insist.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Kalihn said, digging her heels into the ground in an attempt to stop whatever was happening.

    Fortunately, the elf¡¯s pushback was no match for Oralia¡¯s strength. She propelled her towards Mul with a gentle push. ¡°Kalihn here has expressed a desire to learn.¡±

    ¡°Have I?¡± Kalihn said. ¡°I mean, yes, I said that. But I meant from you.¡±

    ¡°Mul is one of my most competent scouts. It would be a disservice to you, Kalihn, to learn from anyone but the best.¡±

    ¡°And what exactly am I getting out of this?¡± Mul demanded.

    ¡°You are learning to be a leader.¡±

    ¡°Forget it.¡± He spit the nibbled plant to the ground and crossed his arms. ¡°Changed my mind. I don¡¯t wanna lead no more.¡±

    ¡°It would be good practice for your own people,¡± Oralia reminded him. A part of her hated how easily the words flowed from her mouth. Fortunately, the part of her that was desperate for peace and quiet was overriding her conscience. ¡°Eventually, one of your siblings will have to assume the Stoneclaw throne. Having leadership experience under your belt could serve you well.¡±

    Neither Mul nor Kalihn appeared convinced.

    One of the perks of actually being in charge meant Oralia could have her way. Sometimes. ¡°In case I was not clear, I am not asking in this instance. I am telling. Mul, take Kalihn with you and start her on the basics of scouting.¡± Oralia shot a look over the top of the elf¡¯s head at Mul that all but shouted ¡®without making your pupil cry¡¯.

    ¡°This is the last time I ever do a good job of anything,¡± Mul grumbled under his breath as he shuffled ahead with Kalihn tentatively following.

    Blessed silence returned. And yet, it was not as serene as Oralia had hoped. Without Kalihn¡¯s incessant whispering around to grate on her nerves, the mounting complaints from her own body swiftly assumed the vacancy. The hours of walking had worked up a sweat and yet, the bones in her hips felt cold and achy. It wouldn¡¯t be long, she feared, before they started to creak with every burdensome step.

    Additionally, her linen undershirt was riding up again.

    Oralia stood off to the side, allowing the others to pass as she fought the sweat-soaked fabric back into position. From the corner of her eye, she saw a hulking shape come to a standstill paces from her. Oralia lifted her head, trying to decipher whether Sascha¡¯s expression was more amused or concerned. There was a healthy dose of both present, but the fact that he wasn¡¯t cracking a joke probably meant it swung more towards the latter.

    ¡°I am fine,¡± Oralia assured him, smoothing her outer clothes back into place.

    Three pack mules stood behind him. Each beast was tethered to the one in front of it, with the guiding lead clasped firmly in Sascha¡¯s right hand. He raised his eyebrows skeptically. ¡°Would you tell me if you weren¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°It is this blasted under cloth!¡± The words leapt from her mouth as if they had a mind of her own. ¡°It keeps riding up, and no amount of adjusting it is helping. I am about to tear the damn thing off and be done with it.¡±

    ¡°I have no objection to that plan,¡± Sascha said as a wry smirk split across his face. He gestured for her to join with a sweep of his free hand. ¡°You should walk with me once you¡¯re finished. I promise I won¡¯t talk your ear off.¡±

    A few irritating wardrobe adjustments later, Oralia stomped to his side and, together, they walked on. She and Sascha made up the tail end of the procession, which was fine by her, as it meant the others were less likely to overhear her childish complaints. ¡°For the record, I blame you.¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡±

    He didn¡¯t even ask what she was blaming him for. Best not to leave him guessing. ¡°I have never had a competent cook in my company before. We took turns, got by the best we could, but dinner was more of a chore than something to be enjoyed. You and your three solid meals a day are having an impact on my waistline.¡±

    ¡°Obviously. That was my grand scheme all along,¡± Sascha replied. ¡°It¡¯s easier for me to keep up this way.¡±

    His free hand hung at his side, swaying in time with each step. Oralia stared at it for longer than she should have. She¡¯d never been one for public displays of affection, but understood that, for some gods awful reason, it was something others enjoyed. Trying not to make a face, she timed the movement of Sascha¡¯s hand and caught it upon the backswing.

    She stared straight ahead and kept walking, ignoring the impulse to yank her hand free when his strong fingers interlaced with her own. Sascha didn¡¯t draw attention to it which, after several prolonged seconds of silence, seemed somewhat suspicious. Fearing she¡¯d misjudged him and that he was simply holding her hand out of a misplaced sense of duty, Oralia glanced his way.

    The big lug was practically beaming. There was a giddy smile curled on his face that reached well beyond his sable eyes. Sascha¡¯s normally blue-gray cheeks had a touch of color, too. The blush could just as easily have been attributed to the crisp air, but Oralia didn¡¯t think so. His expression eased some of her discomfort. In fact, it would have been an entirely pure moment if it were not for the slick layer of sweat collecting between their warm palms.

    That was going to take some getting used to.

    ¡°Are you going to startle if I say something?¡± he asked.

    Startle? She considered, briefly, whether or not she¡¯d just been compared to an untrained horse. ¡°Why would I do that?¡±

    ¡°Because it looks like you¡¯re one teasing remark away from running for the hills.¡±

    ¡°I am not,¡± she scoffed. Running would have been murder on her stiff joints. A swift walk was all that was needed to stay ahead of Sascha.

    ¡°And you¡¯re not going to let go of my hand if I do say something?¡±

    It was times like this that Oralia found him so utterly adorable, she had to stifle the impulse to say something disgustingly mushy. ¡®I want to eat you up¡¯ was an expression she¡¯d overheard on several occasions. That seemed to send mixed signals, however. Particularly when it came from a hungry orc. Instead of saying anything, she opted to lift a single eyebrow slightly higher than the other, as if challenging Sascha to test his luck.

    Sascha rarely backed down from a challenge and today was no exception. ¡°Honestly, I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re sick, or if this is you feeling better.¡±

    Truth be told, Oralia wasn¡¯t so sure of that herself.

    ¡°But I like it,¡± Sascha said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. ¡°And if this is what happens when you finally let me carry that cursed stone of yours for the day, then I might just keep it.¡±

    It was a nice change of pace not having the burden of powerstone weighing her down. Oralia was reluctant to entrust it to another, which was the reason only Sascha and Rali were allowed to keep it on their person from time to time. Normally it took a bit of convincing but, with a long journey ahead of her¨Cwith a body that already felt stretched too thin¨COralia had surrendered the stone without a fight.

    ¡°Over my dead body,¡± Oralia said. ¡°I may not know what to do with it yet, but I can assure you, it will not be staying in your care.¡± Just because she hadn¡¯t put up a fight earlier did not mean she was ready and willing to give up being a stubborn curmudgeon altogether. After all, she had a reputation to maintain. Growing soft was not something that happened overnight. It was all about the baby steps.

    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±

    Oralia¡¯s gaze dropped to their hands. Hers practically engulfed within his, creating a small reservoir of sweat between the two of them.

    Sascha¡¯s wry smile pulled into a full smile, teeth and all. ¡°Because you love me?¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± was the only reply worth mustering.

    ¡°And because, against my better judgment, I love you?¡± He leaned into her, bumping her with his shoulder playfully.

    She considered releasing his hand to prove her point. The fact that she didn¡¯t probably spoke far more than any silly words could have.

    ¡°Mhm.¡± He gave a definitive bob of his head. ¡°Thought so.¡±

    ¡°Hush. We are nearing the border.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that works on anyone, love.¡±

 Important Update

    If you have read beyond Chapter 122, this announcement has no effect on you - hurray!

    Two things:

    1. I am getting rid of volumes because they don''t match how the books were split for publishing.

    2. I am in the process of adding chapters to expand on some ideas, worldbuilding, blah, blah blah. These chapters don''t change any existing plotlines or events, they just *enhance* the story. Maybe. There are nine new chapters in total. Eight of them are being added after chapter 82. The ninth is being added after chapter 100. Sorry for any inconvenience this causes anyone currently reading that section. I will try to make the changes as quickly as possible.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    To avoid spamming anyone''s push notifications, I will turn off chapter alerts on the added chapters.

    Thanks for reading! I''m hoping to get this wrapped up today, but we''ll see. ??

 155 - The Hunter And The Walnut Head

    Figures he¡¯d be the one to get stuck with the blabbering elf. Go hunt for some rabbits, Lingon. Ensure we all have full bellies, Lingon. Never mind that we¡¯ve got bagfuls of food already. No, we¡¯ve got to reserve those in case we get stuck out here longer than expected.

    Lingon stealthily picked his way through the overgrown landscape, ever mindful of his footing as he slunk along, stewing in his thoughts. Oh, by the way, why don¡¯t you take the gall who can¡¯t shut her gab to save her damn life with you? What¡¯s that? She¡¯ll scare all the game away? Nah, nah, don¡¯t worry about it. While she might be severely lacking in the wilderness survival skill area, who better to teach her than you?

    The party¡¯s progress through the deep forests that connected the Adderwood and Mossborn territories was slowed by their valiant leader¡¯s refusal to use the road systems. Oralia¡¯s reasoning had something to do with roving hordes of bandits plaguing the roadways or whatnot. Not that Lingon particularly cared. Stoneclaws were used to picking their way through trees and over rocks and brambles. While rife with wickedly dense thickets and nasty blackberry vines, the terrain was flat and relatively easy for an experienced woodsman to navigate. This, alas, did not apply to his tagalong.

    ¡°Elf,¡± Lingon hissed, casting a glare over his shoulder at the nervous lady-elf who trailed behind him at a snail¡¯s pace. From the start, he¡¯d refused to refer to Kalihn as Ellisar. It was an insult to the real thing¨Ca temperamental, cutthroat, absolutely enchanting warrior who would have been mortified to learn she shared an alias with this walnut head. Even now, with the go-ahead to use Kalihn¡¯s real name, Lingon decided it simply wasn¡¯t worth the effort.

    ¡°Pick up your damn feet already,¡± he said. ¡°Boss said I ain¡¯t allowed to lose you.¡±

    Their party reached where they were going to bed down for the night just as the sun was beginning to set. Lingon had barely gotten his bedroll situated when Oralia tasked him and Dewpetal with hunting duties. While he didn¡¯t agree with the assignment, considering they had plenty of food from the city, Lingon at least understood her reasoning. He and Dewpetal were the best bowmen, after all. He knew it, the boss knew it, practically everyone but Mul acknowledged their superiority. What didn¡¯t make sense was the boss¡¯s flimsy excuse for why it was absolutely necessary for her best bowmen to drag Kalihn along and ¡®teach her the ropes¡¯.

    ¡°I¡¯m going as fast as I can,¡± Kalihn squeaked, holding her puny arms to her chest like a squirrel cradling its last acorn. Her eyes were big and terrified. ¡°Please don¡¯t leave me in the woods to die.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t make it so easy then.¡±

    While Oralia had told him he couldn¡¯t lose Kalihn, she hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about willfully abandoning the elf. It was a prospect Lingon was beginning to consider more and more. Originally, he¡¯d tried to pawn their tagalong off on Dewpetal, but the blasted goblin was a step ahead of him. One moment she¡¯d been alongside them and the next she was gone, like a damn shadow or whatever else could come and go without detection. Ghost maybe? Who knew. Lingon left the metaphorical imagery to the more imaginative types.

    ¡°Sneaky little devil,¡± Lingon cursed Dewpetal under his breath.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± Kalihn froze, one boot still lifted midair, seemingly unaware of the bramble vine tangled around her ankle. Another few steps without correcting it, and she¡¯d be flat on her face.

    Could be worthwhile to stick around long enough to see that, Lingon supposed.

    ¡°Were you referring to me?¡± Kalihn whispered.

    ¡°Did I say ¡®stupid elf¡¯? If not, assume it¡¯s not about you.¡± Lingon watched as his whimpering companion ventured another step before noticing the vine wrapped around her ankle. She shook it loose, simultaneously dashing Lingon¡¯s hopes for a good show. He turned, annoyed, barking over his shoulder as he picked up the pace again. ¡°Hurry up. I¡¯d like to find some decent grub before we lose all the light.¡±

    A dark shape flittered down from the treetops above and landed on a lower branch with a gargled croak. Lingon¡¯s spine stiffened at the sight of the raven. Damn things had been following them for weeks now. Persistently, he might add. No matter how many rocks he threw at them.

    He wagged his finger at the raven. ¡°I already told you to fuck off. Whatever you¡¯ve got to say, I don¡¯t wanna hear it.¡±

    Croak.

    Lingon flinched at the harsh sound. He wasn¡¯t like his baby brother, Rasp, who claimed he could understand what the flock said. It all just sounded like obnoxious noise to Lingon. Still, the bird¡¯s intent was clear. Almost as clear as his resolve to get rid of the damn thing. ¡°Go away.¡±

    Croak!

    ¡°Get out of here. Go on, get,¡± Lingon hissed before turning his back to the pesky messenger. ¡°You¡¯re gonna scare off all the game carrying on like that.¡±

    From the startled look on Kalihn¡¯s face, she undoubtedly had questions. Fortunately, she was smart enough to keep them to herself. At least the ones pertaining to the raven. ¡°What about these mushrooms?¡± The elf indicated a small circle of white and brown capped mushrooms nestled around their feet between the ferns. ¡°They¡¯re not meat, but they are something.¡±

    Lingon sucked his teeth as he considered this option. Mushrooms were finicky things. The kind that went great in stew looked practically identical to the ones capable of causing a man to shit himself to death. That didn¡¯t sound like a particularly fun way to go. ¡°You know anything about mushroom identification, elf?¡±

    ¡°Not really.¡±

    ¡°Me neither.¡± Lingon said with a sniff. ¡°Tell you what, collect a few and we can take ¡®em back with us and the big guy can decide if they¡¯re safe or not.¡±

    With a look sharp enough to kill, Kalihn crouched down into the dirt and gingerly collected several handfuls of mushrooms and dumped them into her pockets. ¡°We have names, you know. We¡¯re not just ¡®big guy¡¯ and ¡®elf¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Good for you. Don¡¯t care.¡± From the corner of his eye, Lingon watched the raven. It hadn¡¯t moved from its perch but at least it had stopped its confounded noises. Lingon didn¡¯t understand why it was being so persistent. He had already made his decision. He wasn¡¯t going to change his mind just because his older brother couldn¡¯t take no for an answer.

    ¡°Is it really because you don¡¯t care?¡± Kalihn carried on. ¡°Or is it because you¡¯re uncomfortable being amicable around so many other species for the first time in your life?¡±

    ¡°Nah. Me an¡¯ Dewpetal get on just fine. You should try taking a page out of her book. Like actually being good at shit.¡± He didn¡¯t bother to listen to the elf¡¯s muttered response. Adjusting the bow slung over his shoulder, Lingon started off without her. He knew Kalihn would follow regardless of whether or not she wanted to. The alternative was trying to find her way back to camp on her own which, undoubtedly, would result in a grisly death due to starvation or mushroom poisoning.

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    The raven hung back just out of sight. But Lingon could feel it watching him, even from a distance.

    The waning light grew dimmer as Lingon ventured deeper into the trees. It wasn¡¯t too long before he found a nice game trail that twisted along the forest floor, half obscured by fallen leaves and sagging ferns. The day old droppings that littered the dirt path told him deer frequented the area. Bagging an entire doe would be quite the boon. Plus, he had an extra pair of hands to help drag the carcass back. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to watch Kalihn squirm during the field dressing part. Maybe he¡¯d even pull the whole ¡®gotta eat the heart to honor the beast¡¯ thing they did when hunting with newbies.

    ¡°Lingon,¡± Kalihn whispered from behind him.

    Lingon rose back onto his feet with an exaggerated eye roll. ¡°What?¡±

    The elf wasn¡¯t watching him. Kalihn¡¯s wide-eyed stare was focused on a spot in the trees due east of their position. ¡°Can you hear that? Something¡¯s headed this way.¡±

    By the gods, while the elf had proved to be a general disappointment to her species thus far, at least her darn ears worked. Lingon couldn¡¯t hear any sort of commotion himself, but after growing up in a cave system with five brothers, his sense of hearing had never been the greatest to begin with. ¡°Alright then. Let¡¯s see what kind of food we¡¯re bringing home tonight. Go on. Find somewhere to hide, quick now.¡±

    He moved swiftly away from the trail and led Kalihn to a nice hidden spot between a thicket of silverberry bushes. Lingon held a finger to his lips in the universally understood sign of ¡®you make a fucking sound and I¡¯m leaving your ass here¡¯.

    Kalihn demonstrated her agreement with a single bob of her head.

    Lingon slid the bow from his shoulder and loosely nocked an arrow. As animals often took their sweet time making an entrance, there was no sense straining his arm waiting for the creature to mosey on into a clean shot. Lingon could hear the beast now as it drew closer. Twigs snapped and cracked underfoot as it approached unafraid. A bit careless for a deer, he noted. Then again, this was the middle of fucking nowhere. Maybe the game in these parts hadn¡¯t learned to be wary of hunters.

    Unfortunately, this theory was immediately disproven by the presence of a voice. Voices, actually. Two of them from the sounds of it.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been walking for hours, Grettie. Are you sure you¡¯re not turned around?¡±

    ¡°Shut up! I already told you, I know where I¡¯m going.¡±

    ¡°Do you, though? Because you¡¯ve said that several times now and none of this looks familiar.¡±

    Out of the corner of his eye, Lingon saw Kalihn start to move. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her back down. He didn¡¯t want to take his eyes off of the approaching strangers, but he felt a well-placed glare was needed in order to keep the elf from bolting and giving away their cover. It seemed to work, too. Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Kalihn shrank back down in a fearful cower.

    The craggily voice previously identified as Grettie rang out, pulling Lingon¡¯s attention back in their direction. ¡°What do you mean this doesn¡¯t look familiar? It¡¯s all bloody trees, Hank. They all look familiar!¡±

    ¡°So you admit it then,¡± Hank wailed. ¡°We are lost.¡±

    At last, a disheveled pair tromped into view. These weren¡¯t part of a local hunting party or wayward travelers, judging from their ratty appearance. Smell, too, because no respectable hunter would be tracking game while reeking of vomit and sticky tavern floor. Both strangers were dressed from head to toe in mismatching garments of questionable size and equally questionable origins. Lingon wagered everything they wore was stolen, except maybe the weapons, which seemed to be the only part of the ensemble that appeared well taken care of.

    Grettie was human, quite possibly a woman. Admittedly, it was hard to tell given that her voice sounded like she regularly swallowed sand to pass the time and most of her body was hidden beneath a raggedy cloak meant for someone larger. She had a crossbow slung over her back and a dagger dangling from her hip. It, however, was her companion that gave Lingon pause. Hank was an orc. And although he wasn¡¯t much of a big one, he probably still outweighed Lingon three to one. Hank was apparently a fan of stereotypes as his primary weapon appeared to be a well battered club.

    These must have been the bandits that Oralia was so concerned about. Ordinarily Lingon would not have hesitated to drop both with a handful of well-placed arrows, but bandits rarely traveled alone. Even if he managed to finish off these two without anyone overhearing, it would only be a matter of time before their friends went looking for them. The last thing he needed was to have a search party stumble across his own group in the dead of the night.

    Thus, fighting the hot warrior blood that surged through his proud Stoneclaw veins, Lingon settled back, watching silently as the pair trudged past none the wiser. Perhaps it was good he¡¯d been saddled with the elf after all. As useless as Kalihn would be during a fight, she was certainly good at hiding. Had Mul come along, Lingon was certain his idiot brother would have rendered the situation into a bloodbath by now.

    Lingon and Kalihn remained hunkered down in the bushes well until the bandit pair were out of sight. And then they waited some more after that just for good measure, in the unlikely event the bandits realized they were lost and circled back. Fortunately, the one named Grettie seemed unwilling to admit defeat and after ten minutes of tedious waiting, Lingon and Kalihn appeared to be in the clear.

    Lingon stood, arching his back. ¡°So much for dinner then.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me we¡¯re not going to follow them,¡± Kalihn said.

    ¡°Psh, of course not. We¡¯re going to leg it back to camp and let the others know we¡¯re not alone here in the woods. Also probably means we¡¯ll pack up and move on, put some distance between us. No more fires for a while, either.¡±

    That was the part that would ail him the most. The cold didn¡¯t bother him so much. Lingon and his brother, Mul, hailed from the great Iron Ridge, after all. The type of cold the lower regions experienced was almost laughable in comparison. No, he¡¯d miss the fire for the piping hot food. And boy could the gentle giant Sascha cook. It didn¡¯t seem to matter what sort of vittles he had on hand, it all tasted like a slice of heaven. Practically bordered on witchcraft, but Lingon enjoyed it far too much to say anything on that front.

    Still dreaming of tender, spit roasted venison and crispy potatoes, Lingon nearly jumped out of his own skin when Kalihn seized him by the arm and jerked him to a halt. Lingon whirled around, mouth curled open, ready to volley a mouthful of spite, when the elf¡¯s terrified expression gave him pause.

    ¡°I hear something again,¡± Kalihn whispered.

    He was about to dive for cover when a scraggly figure slipped out of the bracken beside them. Kalihn¡¯s hand shot to her chest, gripping her frilly shirt as she nearly fell over backwards with fright. ¡°Gods, Dewpetal! Warn us before you pop up like that next time. You nearly startled me to death.¡±

    The goblin had a pheasant hanging limp from her shoulder. She regarded Kalihn for a moment before deciding it wasn¡¯t worth the effort to string together an apology. Dewpetal¡¯s steely gaze swept back to Lingon as she rattled off a hushed response in the Yolcavisch tongue.

    Lingon wasn¡¯t an expert by any means, but he could piece together most of what the goblin said. It probably helped that Dewpetal was using small words, speaking to him in the same manner one would a toddler. Now wasn¡¯t the time to be offended by that. ¡°Two fellers?¡± he said, holding up a pair of fingers.

    Dewpetal nodded, her long ears bobbing.

    ¡°Yeah, we saw ¡®em too.¡± After several clumsy attempts, Lingon was fairly certain he¡¯d managed to convey his thoughts to Dewpetal in the goblin¡¯s mother tongue. Again, Lingon knew he wasn¡¯t an expert by any means. But he and Dewpetal seemed to reach a mutual understanding regardless. With a final nod of her head, Dewpetal turned and started back towards where they had left the others.

    Kalihn dutifully fell in line behind them, her blonde head sagging miserably. ¡°We¡¯re not going to get any rest tonight, are we?¡±

    ¡°No hot food, either,¡± Lingon grumbled, eyeing Dewpetal¡¯s successful catch mournfully. Pheasant wasn¡¯t as finicky as rabbit. With the temperatures dipping in the anticipation of winter, the meat wouldn¡¯t spoil by the time they got around to plucking it. Still, day-old pheasant was still day-old pheasant. He was pretty sure not even Sascha could dress that up enough to drown out the gamey taste.

    The last of the light was fading around them when both Dewpetal and Kalihn froze in place ahead of him. Lingon stopped as well. He didn¡¯t know why. It just seemed like the sensible thing to do. And then he heard it. The sounds of loud footsteps coming from the same direction the bandits had gone. Wordlessly, the three of them traded concerned looks before picking up the pace. Even chatty Kalihn retained her deathly silence, seemingly realizing the danger they were in.

    Behind them, the sounds of a heated argument rang out as the bandits trampled through the undergrowth, retracing their steps.

 156 - Thriving Like A Fish On Dry Land

    Rasp hoped that as the day progressed the heavy weight that had settled into the bottom of his stomach would lift. But as the hours passed and the shock of the events faded, the heaviness doubled. If it weren¡¯t for Hop, Rasp wouldn¡¯t have made it a few steps past the carnage. The putrid stench of sizzled skin and hair clung to the inside of his nose. His appetite was gone and the few sips of lukewarm water he¡¯d managed to swallow down came back up relatively quickly.

    Rasp was lying face down in his blankets with his arms pulled over his head. He heard the crunch of the brittle, curled leaves as someone settled onto the cold ground beside him. Their hand barely rested on his shoulder, as if they were unsure of whether a familial touch would help or hurt the situation.

    ¡°You had a difficult day.¡± Whisper stated this not as a question, but an irrefutable fact.

    Rasp suspected Whisper had already been given the rundown by Hop. He couldn¡¯t tell whether his mentor¡¯s purposely blank tone was meant to disguise their pity or disgust but, at the moment, he wanted neither. Rasp pulled his arms tighter over his head. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have happened if you¡¯d been there.¡±

    ¡°The outcome would have been the same had I been there.¡±

    Minus the part about the spontaneous soldier barbeque. ¡°Not helping.¡±

    ¡°You made a mistake, little bird. The most you can do is learn from it and move on.¡±

    Rasp rolled over and glared at the fae¡¯s hazy shape. ¡°That¡¯s your advice? Seriously? The only thing I learned was to never trust my magic again!¡±

    Whisper¡¯s sigh was deep and heavy. ¡°This is not the first time you have taken a life. I daresay, you¡¯re quite experienced at it. Why was this incident any different than the others?¡±

    ¡°Because I cooked two people alive in their armor!¡±

    ¡°You did,¡± Whisper agreed. ¡°And what are you going to do about it?¡±

    ¡°...Not do it again?¡±

    ¡°Might be a useful skill to harness.¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    ¡°Mortals,¡± Whisper muttered. ¡°I have lived amongst you for thousands of years and your loose sense of morality is still a mystery. Why is one method of taking a life acceptable over another? The outcome is the same, no?¡±

    ¡°It just is, okay. I don¡¯t make the rules.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t follow the rules either.¡±

    ¡°Can we change the subject, please?¡± Rasp heaved himself upright, gathering his blanket over his shoulders and pulling it tight. From the dimming light, he assumed it was nearing twilight. A frigid breeze rattled the sprawl of juniper bushes surrounding their makeshift campsite. There would be no fire tonight. The thought made his shivering worse.

    Rasp adjusted his tone to something that sounded almost like he cared. ¡°How was your day? Did you and Father find whatever it is you¡¯re looking for?¡±

    ¡°I found the settlement. Whether or not the item I seek is being stored inside is yet to be discovered.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, good for you then?¡±

    There was a moment of silence during which Rasp assumed the fae was staring at him with a hardened expression. Finally, after coming to some sort of conclusion, Whisper said, ¡°We have been traveling for several months together.¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡±

    ¡°And not once have you asked what it is I¡¯m looking for.¡±

    That would require caring. Something Rasp found himself in short supply as of late. ¡°Picked up on that, did you?¡±

    ¡°It is the entire reason I am training you.¡±

    As much as he would have preferred to dance around the subject for the rest of time, some minuscule part of Rasp¡¯s brain signaled him to sit straighter. Ever since the events on the mountain, his life had felt aimless. Adrift on an ebbing tide without a purpose other than to do as he was told¨Cgo here, do this, stop putting that in your mouth. This information was probably something he needed to know. He hated to admit it, but an even tinier part of him wanted to know.

    ¡°Is this where you impart a bunch of vague nonsense disguised as wisdom and I just nod my head and act like I know what it means?¡± Rasp jumped when one of Whisper¡¯s quills scraped along his ribcage. What? Just because he wanted to know didn¡¯t mean he had to act like it.

    ¡°I chose you as my apprentice for a very specific reason, little bird. But in order to understand how it correlates to the item I seek, you must first understand that I am not like you.¡±

    The fact that Whisper had quills, didn¡¯t eat food, and never had to stop for a piss were all reasons Rasp already knew this to be true. Probably not what his mentor meant though.

    ¡°My kind is not brought into existence the same way as yours,¡± Whisper explained. ¡°Fae are not born, but awakened. An excess of magic is required for a youngling to be stirred from stasis. Prior to my kind being hunted out of existence, it required the help of three or more fae¨Can impossible amount of magic by mortal standards, but for us, it was attainable. In order to breathe life into the new, the old had to surrender a piece of themself. The more magic that was given, the stronger the next generation would be.¡±

    ¡°Seven realms,¡± Rasp cursed as realization dawned within his hazy thoughts. ¡°This item of yours, it¡¯s not an item at all, is it? You¡¯re searching for an unborn of your kind.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I was away when the mortals declared war on my people. I returned to find my ancestral city ransacked and in ruins. What they didn¡¯t take, they destroyed. There was a special chamber where the elders kept the unawakened and when I found it, the door had been ripped away, taking the future of my kind with it. Hidden amongst the ruins, I found a single unawakened youngling.¡±

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    Rasp wrinkled his nose. He recalled the day the winds were so strong it knocked the sparrow nests from the trees. That was the first time he¡¯d ever seen an unhatched chick splattered on the ground. The mental image made his stomach churn. ¡°Like, out in the open? All gooey and with no bones?¡±

    ¡°What? No! I told you, it doesn¡¯t happen the same. To you, an unawakened would look like a blue pearl.¡±

    Oh. Well that was definitely a lot easier on the imagination. ¡°To me, they probably wouldn¡¯t look like anything.¡±

    ¡°Are you done being a smartass?¡±

    ¡°We both know the answer to that.¡±

    Rasp heard a soft rattle of quills. One of the few, telltale signs that Whisper was shaking their head in futility. ¡°I took the unawakened and carried it with me, hoping one day to reunite with others of my kind and bring about the new generation. Alas, I eventually realized there were no others. I was the last.¡±

    Rasp was probably supposed to feel sad about that, which, to be fair, he did. But things were starting to come into focus now and he dared not deviate from his current line of thought for fear of losing it completely. ¡°So you need magic to awaken your egg?¡±

    ¡°Not an egg, but yes.¡±

    ¡°Like, a lot of magic.¡±

    ¡°Yes, little bird. A lot of magic.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here!¡± Rasp said. ¡°You¡¯re going to use my magic to help wake up your egg.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not an egg!¡±

    Rasp made a mental note to keep referring to it as an egg whenever possible, before moving onto his next question. ¡°How do you know it¡¯s going to work?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Whisper replied grimly. ¡°But you proved yourself capable of awakening magical beings before, as you did with the entity on the mountain. My hope is that with enough time and training, you can learn to do it again.¡±

    ¡®Perhaps without the disastrous consequences this time¡¯, Whisper kindly omitted from their response.

    Rasp was too exhilarated to let his own self-destructive thoughts bring him down. For the first time in many days, weeks, months even, his spirit lifted from the depths of its internal tomb. Like the almighty phoenix, from death born anew, his hopes reared to life, lighting a flame within his soul that Rasp had feared he would never feel again. A giddy smile pulled across his clammy lips. ¡°If I give your egg my magic, that means it goes away, right? Doesn¡¯t regenerate? No take-backsies?¡±

    No more running for the rest of his life? No more training until his fingertips were raw and blistered? Or accidental soldier barbeque? Oh, how bright the future suddenly looked.

    ¡°Little bird, you misunderstand,¡± Whisper said softly. ¡°I will not be taking all of your magic.¡±

    Damn it. ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because you have lived with it your entire life. Whether you like it or not, you have never gone a day without your magic. Taking all of it would be like tossing a fish onto dry land and expecting it to thrive.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Rasp¡¯s soaring spirits were already dipping back down, taking his smile and all hopes for the future with it.

    ¡°I see that disappoints you.¡±

    ¡°But you can still take some of it, right?¡± Enough to take the edge off at least? Maybe it wouldn¡¯t stop Rasp from being able to light things on fire, but it could downgrade his powers from raging wildfire to controlled burn.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Better than nothing, Rasp supposed.

    ¡°So where is it, this unborn egg thingy of yours?¡± Rasp said, deciding he wasn¡¯t going to fixate on the cloud of darkness steadily closing back in around his shriveling soul. He had all night to toss and turn and wallow in self-pity, after all. No sense in starting early. Especially not with Whisper being uncharacteristically forthcoming for a change.

    ¡°That is what I am attempting to discover. With any luck, it will be in the settlement.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Rasp said, as if he understood. ¡°So you lost it.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t lose it!¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t find something that¡¯s not lost,¡± he countered. ¡°Not to point fingers here, but that was very irresponsible of you. You really should take better care of your babies.¡±

    From Whisper¡¯s notable silence, Rasp assumed they were debating between hitting him or giving up on the conversation as a whole. He offered a placating smile as a truce. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m done being a smartass. You may continue.¡±

    ¡°I told you how I was captured by a powerful witch and forced into servitude?¡±

    Rasp nodded. Even he didn¡¯t dare take a jab at that subject. It was Whisper¡¯s original master who bound the fae to a powerstone and used it as a means to extort their magic.

    ¡°I had the unawakened on me when I was first caught. In that moment, I was left with a difficult choice. I could fight capture with everything I had, knowing that if I failed, it would render my kind extinct. The alternative was to use the last of my strength to disguise the youngling as something innocuous. I chose the latter. Even with the glamour spell, it still produced a faint magical frequency and wound up in a collection headed for the capital.¡±

    Great. Now Rasp felt bad for teasing. He rubbed the tip of his elbow to ease some of the queasiness rumbling around the inside of his gut. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°There is no need to apologize. It was long before your time, little bird.¡±

    It was then he realized not all of the queasiness was on account of his brattiness. A new question gnawed at the edge of Rasp¡¯s mind. ¡°This whole time you knew how I felt about my magic, and had a way to rid me of it for good. Why didn¡¯t you tell me all of this before?¡±

    ¡°I tried to tell you many times. You didn¡¯t listen.¡± After a thoughtful pause, Whisper added solemnly, ¡°Losing your magic is not something to be taken lightly. Had I offered to remove it sooner, you would have given it without question. I wanted to give you time to learn to use it, to wield it, in case you changed your mind.¡±

    ¡°Nope. Still hate it.¡±

    ¡°That may change.¡±

    Had his attitude towards magic changed? Sure. Rasp now realized the existence of power did not inherently make something good or bad. Good or bad depended on the intentions of the person wielding it. He also recognized that the type of person wielding magic should, by all accounts, not be him. Reckless, impulsive, emotionally unstable, were not the cornerstones of a hero, but a monster. Getting rid of his power sounded much easier than having to relearn everything that had gotten him this far.

    ¡°What about the infection? It¡¯s attached to my magic, isn¡¯t it?¡± Rasp asked. If Whisper used his power to release the unawakened, was it possible that the darkness would infect the youngling as well? What happened when an inexperienced fae, gifted unimaginable power, touched the darkness? Would the evil spirit consume it too, as the entity had its previous victims?

    Shit. Had Rasp staved one apocalypse just to start another?

    ¡°The infection will have to be addressed prior to the ritual. You are right to be fearful of what would happen if one of my kind succumbs to evil. But that is a worry for another time. Our first step is to find the unawakened, and then we can seek out how to rid you of the infection.¡±

    Whisper¡¯s answer was about as comforting as a blanket made from thistles. Suppressing the groan that built in the back of his throat, Rasp dropped face-first into his bedding. He drew the top cover over his head and burrowed deeper. He couldn¡¯t do anything about the darkness in his veins, or the gnawing guilt that ate at him from the inside. He couldn¡¯t even bury the feelings inside of him. Thus, the only logical conclusion was to bury himself, deep into his blankets until the warm, dingy air lulled him into a restless sleep.

    Once more, Whisper¡¯s hand touched his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that is not a possibility at the moment. The revolutionists you encountered earlier are not the only ones in the area. Once they¡¯ve had a chance to regroup, they will undoubtedly come looking for us again. And now that they have some idea what they are up against, they will use whatever means possible to capture you alive.¡±

    ¡°More running.¡± Rasp¡¯s voice came out muffled by the surrounding blankets. ¡°Yay.¡±

 157 - Ghost Town

    A fierce wind howled overhead, rocking the towering forest giants from side to side in a rhythmic sway. Rasp shuddered as he wrapped his cloak tighter over his shivering shoulders and focused on not falling from the mule. Resigned to the saddle, unable to move, his leaden legs had gone numb hours ago. If it weren¡¯t for the occasional sharp, stabbing tingle in his toes, he would have sworn his lower limbs had fallen from his body and were slowly rotting away amongst the ferns some miles back.

    Whisper was the only one of the three equipped with night vision. With Bonecrusher¡¯s lead in hand, the small fae led the mule through the dark forest, forgoing the use of lanterns entirely. The dark was intentional, as light would have advertised their location to every unsavory group patrolling the area¨Cincluding the one Rasp¡¯s company was attempting to outrun. Thus, they moved amongst the shadows, creeping along at a pace that would have made the world¡¯s slowest snail shed tears of sympathy.

    Whisper walked on undeterred. In fact, for someone who was currently on the run, slowly dying from iron poisoning, the fae seemed to have an unusual abundance of energy. Whisper rarely traveled in their true form anymore, opting to spend the time curled in Rasp¡¯s hood to preserve their dwindling strength instead. Had Rasp possessed the willpower to turn his sluggish thoughts into comprehensible words, he might have asked about this marked change in behavior.

    As he could do little more than cling to the mule swaying beneath him with the remaining strength in his numb hands, he kept the questions to himself. Rasp satiated his growing curiosity in the knowledge that, in due time, the answer would reveal itself. What he wasn¡¯t expecting was for the answer to come so soon.

    ¡°I do have more energy than normal, little bird,¡± Whisper called from ahead of the mule. ¡°The reason for which I am eager to show you.¡±

    Rasp narrowed his eyes in the direction of Whisper¡¯s voice. He had no idea whether or not he was glaring at the back of the fae¡¯s head, but surely it was the thought that counted. Stop reading my thoughts. One of these days you¡¯re going to come across something real nasty, and I won¡¯t be held accountable for it.

    Hop¡¯s heavy footsteps slogged alongside Rasp¡¯s mule. ¡°I thought the whole point of traveling in the dead of night was to outrun the people following us.¡±

    ¡°Our midnight travels can serve multiple purposes,¡± Whisper replied. ¡°We¡¯re still moving in the direction of the realm settlement in search of my item, ahead of our new pursuers, as planned. It just happens that I discovered something of great interest earlier, and I wish to share it with you.¡±

    Croak. Father¡¯s groggy call rang out from above, lacking its usual ear-splitting potency.

    ¡°Dad says he found it,¡± Rasp corrected.

    Whisper grumbled something contemptuous in response, but Rasp wasn¡¯t listening. He uncurled his stiff left hand from its white-knuckled grip on the saddle and raised it to his shoulder, adjusting his cloak to make room for a feathery passenger. ¡°Come on, old man.¡± Rasp patted his shoulder invitingly. ¡°You¡¯ve been going all day. Can¡¯t have you falling out of any trees from exhaustion.¡±

    The mere suggestion of taking a break would ordinarily have caused a fight. Proud Stoneclaw leaders did not take slights to their machoism very lightly, after all. Which meant Father was either growing as a bird-person or, the more likely option, was too worn down to draw blood. His feathers rustled softly as he swooped down from the treetops and landed on Rasp¡¯s shoulder.

    Rasp grimaced as the raven shifted its weight, talons gripping cloth and flesh alike, until Father achieved a more secure roosting position. ¡°Comfortable?¡± Rasp managed between clenched teeth, making a mental note to trim the bird¡¯s damned claws once he regained the full functioning use of his frozen hands.

    Croak.

    Rasp ignored Father¡¯s demand for silence. ¡°Good, good. Now that you¡¯re all nice and cozy, showered in my overwhelming filial love, mind telling me where Whisper¡¯s taking us?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell him anything,¡± Whisper called from ahead of them. ¡°I want it to be a surprise.¡±

    Not that it would have mattered anyway. From the bird¡¯s still movements, Rasp was almost certain Father had already fallen asleep. He dared not test his theory by poking the winged beast perched so precariously close to his unprotected face.

    Hop issued a full-body sigh. ¡°Could we save the surprise field trip for when we¡¯re not trying to outrun an enemy?¡±

    ¡°What he said,¡± Rasp agreed.

    There was an unmistakable edge of amusement to Whisper¡¯s melodic voice. ¡°Neither of you even know where we¡¯re going.¡±

    It took effort not to scream his next words. ¡°Because you won¡¯t tell us!¡±

    ¡°Which, not going to lie, I do find slightly worrisome,¡± Hop added, mumbling under his breath about having read too many stories of wayward travelers being lured into the woods by an overly cheerful fae, never to be seen again.

    Whisper cackled with delight, too enthralled with their new game to give up any pesky details¨Csuch as where they were going or, why in the seven realms of chaos, they chose now of all times for a surprise detour.

    The only way to obtain the information Whisper was currently dangling over their heads would be to play the fae¡¯s favorite game of ¡®keep asking questions and maybe I¡¯ll get around to an answer eventually¡¯. Rasp was not a fan of this particular pastime, but supposed it would be best to jump right in and get it over with. ¡°Alright, fine, I¡¯ll bite. If you¡¯re not going to tell us, then at least give me a hint so I can guess.¡±

    ¡°Somewhere off the beaten path.¡±

    The fact that they were currently traveling through an overgrown forest, woefully lacking any paths to speak of, rendered this clue absolutely useless. Knowing Whisper and their love for equivocation, their vague answer was entirely intentional.

    ¡°Straight from the tomes of history, one could say,¡± Whisper continued in a manner that made Rasp want to spur the mule forward with his heels. ¡°Metaphorically speaking, of course. You would be hard pressed to find very many books on the subject.¡±

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    Rasp¡¯s eyes rolled so far back in his skull that, had he possessed functioning vision, he was certain he would have made eye contact with the inner ghoul responsible for all of his poor life decisions. He imagined the ghoul was rolling their eyes as well. ¡°Whisper,¡± Rasp gritted out, ¡°so help me.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, little bird. This short detour is meant to help you.¡±

    ¡°You know what, just for this, when your little spiky baby is awakened, I¡¯m naming it Egbert.¡±

    Whisper prattled off another unhelpful explanation, not deterred,  but seemingly fueled by Rasp¡¯s growing irritation. ¡°You may not be aware, little bird, but this territory did not always belong to the realm. The people who resided here had their own culture and way of life, some of which was heavily dependent on magic. Unfortunately, the United Territories of the Realm has a long history of cannibalizing other nations, and those who lived here originally fell to its power long ago. All that remains are the ruins of their former cities.¡±

    Hop, unlike Rasp, anticipated where Whisper¡¯s long winded explanation was going several steps ahead of schedule. ¡°So you found a ruined city and you¡¯re taking us to it, is that what you¡¯re getting at?¡±

    ¡°It was more of a village, but yes,¡± Whisper agreed with a grumble, notably perturbed that their fun had run its course so quickly.

    Gods help him. As if being dragged along in the middle of the night unable to feel his numb ass in a saddle wasn¡¯t torture enough. Afraid he might upset his sleeping passenger, Rasp resisted the urge to throw his hands out from his sides in exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re taking us sightseeing?¡±

    ¡°Consider it a history lesson. Learning the past is as important to your training as the rest of it is.¡±

    Oh good. Rasp¡¯s worries that they were going sightseeing just for the fun of it were immediately put to rest. Learning whilst taking in sights he literally could not see was so much better. ¡°Whisper, in case you¡¯ve forgotten, we¡¯re being followed, remember? This seems like a good way to get caught.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention all the ruins out here are supposedly haunted,¡± Hop murmured just loud enough for Rasp to overhear.

    ¡°Thank you, Hop,¡± Rasp said, struggling to keep his own volume at a level that wouldn¡¯t garner unwanted attention. Traveling in pitch darkness, after all, would be for naught if he gave in to the urge to start screaming at the top of his lungs. ¡°I was concerned this random detour couldn¡¯t possibly get any worse.¡±

    ¡°On the contrary,¡± Whisper replied, still slowly plodding away, leading Bonecrusher along in their wake. ¡°The haunting works in our favor. The ruins are not far from the realm settlement. Between the superstition surrounding the village and the outpost swarming with realm soldiers, our pursuers will be reluctant to follow us into such obvious danger.¡±

    So not only was Whisper planning to move them closer to the military settlement crawling with realm soldiers, they intended to stop off at a haunted village along the way. What a perfectly reasonable plan. Not crazy at all. Rasp was so utterly delighted to be under the wing of a perfectly sane mentor.

    ¡°So dramatic,¡± Whisper tutted. ¡°You well know a sane mentor would have never taken you on.¡±

    ¡°Stay out of my head!¡±

    ¡°For the record,¡± Hop cut in, steering the conversation back on track with an exasperated snort, ¡°I think this is a terrible plan.¡±

    ¡°The worst,¡± Rasp agreed.

    ¡°We might as well light the lanterns and put bells on at this point.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and take our clothes off while we¡¯re at it.¡±

    There was a contemplative pause before Hop revealed his thoughts regarding Rasp¡¯s contribution to the plan. ¡°That might actually keep unwanted company away.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re in agreement then? Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s freezing out.¡±

    ¡°I thought the whole point was coming up with ways to make Whisper¡¯s stupid plan stupider.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not stupid,¡± Whisper insisted with a rattle of their quills. ¡°We are using the enemy¡¯s superstition to our advantage by going to a place they will be reluctant to follow.¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s haunted.¡± Rasp didn¡¯t exactly believe in ghosts, but it did seem like an important detail to keep bringing up, even if only to annoy his mentor.

    ¡°Supposedly haunted,¡± Whisper said. ¡°I can assure you, whatever shadows may lurk within the abandoned village pale in comparison to the enemy hot on our trail. You were lucky the resistance members you encountered earlier were so easily caught off guard. That is not a mistake their leader will permit them to make a second time. If they catch up again, they will throw everything they have at us.¡±

    Welp, so much for his fun. Along with the reminder of who they were running from came the memory of why they were running. Rasp shook his head to clear the sudden smell of burnt flesh and hair that clawed up the inside of his nose. In his haste to bury the carnage he¡¯d caused that afternoon deep, deep down out of sight forever, Rasp realized he hadn¡¯t bothered to ask about the people currently hunting them.

    ¡°You sound like you¡¯re familiar with the idiots chasing us, Whisper.¡± Rasp paused, attempting to recall the group¡¯s ridiculously overcomplicated name. ¡°They called themselves something really obnoxious. Girls and Boys of Revenge or something.¡±

    ¡°The Sons and Daughters of Resistance,¡± Hop corrected.

    They had said the same thing, as far as Rasp was concerned.

    ¡°I am familiar,¡± Whisper said in the sort of tone that implied it was not an ecstatic familiarity. ¡°They are the magical group formed in opposition to the abuses committed by the Division of Divination on the behalf of the realm. Their leader has been operating within the flatlands for over half a century, waiting for exactly this moment to move in.¡±

    Rasp was following so far. ¡°So they¡¯re here to dismantle the realm, right?¡±

    ¡°One would assume.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that make them on our side then? You know, the whole ¡®the enemy of my enemy makes good bedfellows¡¯ or whatever?¡± Such prevailing wisdom had never applied to Stoneclaws in any meaningful way. Rasp¡¯s people took great delight in creating as many enemies as possible and fighting them all at once. Rasp would have thought that Whisper, of all people, would have realized this was a losing strategy. ¡°Because for someone who shares a common enemy, you don¡¯t seem all that keen to make their acquaintance.¡±

    Granted, cooking two of their members in their armor could very well have been Whisper¡¯s sole reason for avoiding the group as a whole, but Rasp wasn¡¯t about to bring that up again.

    ¡°While the resistance¡¯s cause may seem noble on the surface, their end goal is no different, little bird. The Sons and Daughters of Resistance want the same thing the division does¨Cabsolute power.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± It was becoming clearer now. Or so he thought. Maybe it was just the sleep exhaustion finally catching up to him.

    Whisper¡¯s melodic voice carried on the bitter breeze, intermingling with the crisp smells of wet needles and pine sap. ¡°No matter the cause, we would be but tools to those that capture us. Used until there was nothing left to take. Our best course of action is not to get involved at all.¡±

    Ah, running from their problems, Rasp concluded, feeling the weight of sleep pull at his heavy eyelids. Finally, a solution he and Whisper agreed upon.

    In the distance, muffled by the rattling, rhythmic sway of the forest giants, the faint screech of a raven sounded in the night. Had Rasp not been drifting off to sleep, he might have noticed the way Father¡¯s head snapped to attention. Father¡¯s feet shifted, tightening his grip on Rasp¡¯s shoulder with his sharp talons as he tilted his head, listening for the familiar call.

 158 - Needlessly Dramatic: A Love Language

    Rasp drifted in and out of consciousness, jerking alert to catch himself each time his body listed dangerously over one side of the mule. The dark forest canopy blocked out any natural light provided by the moon or stars, obscuring his already finicky sense of time. Rasp didn¡¯t know how many hours passed before Bonecrusher¡¯s plodding steps came to a stop, he was merely grateful that they¡¯d reached their destination while he still possessed feeling in some of his fingers.

    Father stirred to life on Rasp¡¯s shoulder with a shake of his feathery head. He stretched his wings, smacking Rasp across the face as he did so, before fluttering away in search of a perch that smelled less like an amalgamation of mule musk and swampy armpits.

    Rasp was preparing to slide from the saddle when Hop¡¯s steady hand braced against his shoulder. ¡°I think it would be best if you let me assist with this part.¡±

    The insult struck like a limp-handed slap. Fresh heat flushed across Rasp¡¯s frostbitten face, stinging the tip of his nose. He swatted Hop¡¯s hand away with a scoff. ¡°In case you didn¡¯t notice, I¡¯m a big boy now. I can dismount all by myself, mom.¡±

    ¡°I only meant¨C¡±

    ¡°Stand aside please.¡± Rasp struck a dramatic pose. He held his left hand clenched to his chest and the other outstretched in Hop¡¯s direction, keeping the faun at a distance. ¡°Just because I¡¯m blind does not mean I¡¯m helpless.¡±

    Hop mustered a halfhearted ear flick, so light Rasp barely heard its leathery snap. ¡°Of course. My apologies. By all means, have at it.¡±

    Gripping the saddle with both hands, Rasp swung his right leg over, intending to let gravity do the rest of the work assisting his body to the ground. Unfortunately, this tactic relied on fully functioning legs, and not the gelatinous noodle bits that now constituted his lower extremities. Rasp¡¯s numb feet struck the ground and folded uselessly beneath him. He went down with a startled yelp in a flurry of flailing arms, stirring a cloud of frost encrusted leaves into the air.

    ¡°As I was saying,¡± Hop continued pleasantly, ¡°it was your legs, not your vision, I was concerned about. Particularly whether or not the lack of circulation had caused temporary paresthesia. I suppose I have my answer now.¡±

    Croak, croak, croak. Father¡¯s harsh laughter echoed around them, bouncing between tree and stone in a manner that was far too eerie to grate on Rasp¡¯s fraying nerves.

    ¡°Oh, shut up, Dad,¡± Rasp snarled, definitely not embarrassed at all by his sudden and most unexpected reunion with the ground. ¡°You always take mom¡¯s side!¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯m going to ignore everything you¡¯re saying and just pick you up now,¡± Hop said as his cloven feet dragged closer, disturbing the piles of curled leaves heaped across the woodland floor. His strong hand caught Rasp beneath the arm and lifted him from the ground with far more care than he rightfully deserved.

    Rasp inhaled sharply as blood rushed to his legs in a surge of pins and needles. ¡°I take it all back, Hopalong,¡± he said between short gasps of breath, clinging to Hop like a helpless baby possum to its mother. ¡°You¡¯re an excellent mother. I shouldn¡¯t have acted the way I did. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Must you make everything so weird?¡±

    ¡°There, there. Compliments are hard to take, I know.¡± Rasp found the side of the faun¡¯s face with his hand and gave it a sympathetic pat. ¡°Anyway, now that my pride¡¯s been buried, I¡¯m ready to be carried now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not carrying you.¡±

    Some tender face fondling would be sure to change the stubborn faun¡¯s mind, Rasp was certain of it. ¡°Lil horsey-back ride?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Fauney-back ride?¡±

    ¡°Not a thing,¡± Hop assured him as he started to pull, intending for Rasp to fall into step beside him.

    ¡°A light dragging it is then,¡± Rasp said as he slid his arm free from the crook of Hop¡¯s elbow, willing his body to assume its natural slug form once more. His wobbly knees took their cue and buckled on command, spilling him back towards the ground.

    ¡°Rasp.¡± Hop caught him before he got halfway, groaning, ¡°We¡¯ve been walking all day. I¡¯m exhausted. Do you think we could just get to where we¡¯re going without the theatrics for a change?¡±

    ¡°How dare you, sir. You know my love language is needlessly dramatic.¡±

    ¡°And here I thought it was because you didn¡¯t want to step foot near the haunted ruins of a dead civilization.¡±

    Was that the cause for his sudden bout of ¡®I don¡¯t want to do this and you can¡¯t make me¡¯? How insightful. It was a shame this knowledge didn¡¯t do anything to stop the creepy crawly sensation currently skittering up and down his spine. With a plaintive sigh, Rasp reluctantly stood and threaded his arm back through Hop¡¯s. ¡°Can¡¯t fault me for trying.¡±

    ¡°To your credit, it did delay our inevitable deaths by a few minutes.¡± Leading the mule with one hand and with Rasp hanging on to the other, Hop started them off with slow, painstaking steps.

    The spongy forest floor beneath their feet gradually shifted to something more solid. Not completely solid, Rasp noted, as his left foot sank ankle-deep into a swampy layer of decomposing foliage. He pulled his tattered boot free with a grunt as he attempted to keep pace with Hop. The rhythmic rustle of the treetops grew faint as the smells of wet stone and moss enveloped them from all sides.

    ¡°Is there a reason this is taking so long?¡± Whisper¡¯s voice rang out from up ahead.

    ¡°What? Afraid the ancient ruins are going somewhere, Whisper?¡± Rasp snapped back. Judging from the cavernous echo, he assumed they were near stone structures of some sort. He swiveled his head this way and that, unable to identify anything amongst the unrelenting darkness. ¡°Alright, give it to me straight,¡± he whispered to Hop. ¡°How haunted is this place?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Honestly, I can¡¯t see much at all.¡±

    ¡°Welcome to my world.¡±

    ¡°However, there is¡­¡± Hop¡¯s voice trailed, giving him time to reconsider whatever terrible thing he was about to say. ¡°You know what, never mind. It¡¯s fine. We¡¯re fine.¡±

    The hairs on the back of Rasp¡¯s neck stood on end as the crawling beneath his skin doubled. ¡°Um, no. Not never mind. We¡¯re in this together, Hoppy. You tell me everything, the good, the bad, and the nightmare fuel.¡±

    Their voices echoed as they passed beneath what might have been a stone arc. The musty air was thick with the smell of wet stone and decayed vegetation. ¡°It¡¯s just, I¡¯ve read about places like this before. Kalikose, specifically.¡± Hop anticipated Rasp¡¯s next question before he had the chance to put his confusion to words. ¡°Kalikose is another ruined city, the most famous probably, located deep in Yubak territory. Similar circumstances: ancient magic city, supposedly haunted, etcetera. My point is, every journal entry I read detailed the same strange phenomenon. A feeling, if you will, that everyone who ever visited felt before entering.¡±

    ¡°You mean the feeling like something is seriously off and, despite no obvious signs of danger, every muscle in your body is screaming at you to run?¡± Rasp ventured.

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    Rasp clung to Hop¡¯s burly forearm as the pair exited the stone arc back out into open air. Dark shadows rose up on either side of them, obscured by the unrelenting dark. He was used to not being able to see anything, that wasn¡¯t anything new. What Rasp found truly unnerving was the lack of sound. Forests were rarely silent. The rustle of the wind in the trees, birds, the incessant buzz of insects¨Call were eerily absent.

    ¡°Alright, Whisper,¡± Rasp said. ¡°You¡¯ve strung us along long enough. What¡¯s so special about this place?¡±

    ¡°You can feel it just as strongly as can I, little bird. That tremble beneath your skin? The static in the air? It¡¯s downright intoxicating.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, not how I¡¯d describe what I¡¯m feeling.¡±

    ¡°We are standing in what used to be the village center,¡± Whisper explained. ¡°Look around you. Isn¡¯t it marvelous?¡±

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t see shit.¡±

    ¡°Because you are using the wrong set of eyes. In order to understand why I brought you here, you must rely on your sixth sense. Do as we practiced.¡±

    Gods, he was too tired for this shit. Holding back his lashing tongue, Rasp closed his eyes and drew inwards for the simple fact that complying was easier than protesting. The shift between planes was subtle. So much so, that when Rasp opened his eyes again, convinced he would see the same unrelenting world of shades and shadows, he nearly keeled over with fright.

    Veins of pale white light weaved across the ground in concentric circles, casting the surrounding crumbling walls in a ghoulish glow. The shapes moved together as one, coalescing in the middle of the ruined courtyard. A single stone pillar rose up at its epicenter, its chipped exterior carved with intricate runes. The symbols glowed, pulsing in time to the vibration crawling beneath Rasp¡¯s skin.

    Tearing his gaze from the pillar, Rasp realized his phantom vision was casting the magical auras of his companions as well. Hop¡¯s was a dull violet, towering close to six feet in height beside him. Whisper¡¯s blue aura was further away, glowing brighter than Rasp had ever seen it before. Faint waves of light pulsed from the center pillar, curling into the air and enveloping Whisper¡¯s body like wisps of smoke, as though naturally drawn to the fae.

    Rasp studied his open palm, fascinated by the yellow glow highlighting his individual fingers. He reached for a passing wisp of magic. It curled around his hand, prickling his skin as it dissipated between his fingers and reformed its shape, continuing its path back towards the pillar.

    ¡°You seeing any of this, Hop?¡±

    ¡°Not a thing.¡±

    ¡°The place is crawling with magic.¡± Rasp explained what he was seeing the best he could. He tried to be articulate, but it still came off like a toddler explaining scientific theory to a learned adult. ¡°But it¡¯s different looking. Fainter , I guess? Like a ghost magic. Oh, and symbols. Lots of those. They¡¯re carved into the ground and seem to be channeling all of the ghost magic towards that pillar in the middle there.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re describing a harmony stone.¡± To his credit, Hop actually sounded impressed. Probably with the stone itself and not Rasp¡¯s super descriptive explanation, though. ¡°Most were destroyed during the Great Expansion. It¡¯s rare to find one still standing.¡±

    Rasp was forever amazed how, even though he and Hop spoke a shared language, he only understood about half of what the faun was saying at any given time.

    Whisper, fortunately, could be counted on to help fill the gaps in Rasp¡¯s understanding. ¡°The harmony stone is a shrine, constructed using a combination of fae and mortal magic. It served as a representation of the amity that once existed between the two.¡±

    Amidst the ghoulish white glow, Rasp saw Whisper¡¯s silhouette approach the stone. The carved runes sparked blue when Whisper placed their hand to the pillar. ¡°Once upon a time, you could find a harmony stone in every mortal village. The shrines were charmed with healing properties and served as an unspoken invitation for any fae seeking shelter to stop and stay. Helping a weary fae was thought to bring favor to the village.¡±

    Rasp turned his head, studying the eerie light that weaved across what remained of the village. Squinting, he could just barely make out a ring of broken stone walls shrouded in moss. ¡°What kind of favor?¡±

    ¡°Plentiful times of harvest, fertility, protection, to name but a few.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Rasp said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like it worked.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not with him!¡± Hop stepped backwards, allowing for an adequate smiting buffer between him and Rasp. ¡°Just in case anyone or thing listening might care.¡±

    ¡°He says, still holding my hand,¡± Rasp remarked flatly.

    ¡°Attempting to reconcile that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late, Hop. The ghosts already saw. They know we¡¯re together.¡±

    ¡°I really wish you would be more mindful of phrasing.¡± Despite the faun¡¯s commendable attempts, he was unable to shake off Rasp¡¯s iron grip. ¡°Seven realms! Why are you only this strong when you¡¯re actively trying to endanger my life?¡±

    ¡°Active endangerment is your love language.¡±

    ¡°The little bird is not wrong about the effectiveness of the harmony stone.¡± Whisper¡¯s shifting blue aura moved away from the glowing pillar towards them, intent on concluding the history lesson regardless of Rasp¡¯s participation in it. ¡°The fate of the mortals who once lived here were intertwined with that of the fae. When my people disappeared, so too did their blessings. For the first time in eons, villages such as this found themselves susceptible to a rapidly changing world. They may have wanted harmony, but their neighbors wanted power. One by one, they fell to the greed of mortal-kind.¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t know whether the sudden drop in his spirits was due to the overextension of his magic, his overwhelming weariness, or the lesson itself. Feeling the last dregs of his energy slipping away, he closed his eyes and extinguished his aural vision with a flick of his fingers. ¡°Are all of your history lessons going to be this depressing?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all depressing,¡± Hop countered. ¡°The part about the harmony stone was interesting.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, right up until everyone died for putting their trust in a hunk of rock.¡±

    ¡°We have barely scratched the surface,¡± Whisper assured Rasp. ¡°One day, when you are ready, I will tell you of the original gift of magic and how spectacularly that failed.¡±

    The mere thought made his knees wobble in protest. There was only so much depressing history one could cram inside their aching skull before bedtime. ¡°Not tonight though, right? Haunted or not, the ground is starting to look awful comfy.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Make your bed. We will camp here tonight.¡±

    ¡°Yay,¡± Hop murmured weakly under his breath as he turned to unsaddle the mule standing dutifully behind them, ¡°haunted sleepover.¡±

 159 - The Gift Of Magic

    Rasp was having the most lovely dream of charred snake on a stick, with skin so crispy it shattered in his mouth. There was hot capsicum dipping sauce and serpent bones so tender they disintegrated to gelatinous goop after the third chew. Rasp was preparing to sink his teeth into another when the snake reared back and struck its fangs into his face. He screamed, throwing up his hands to ward it off as a second and third strike rained down upon his unprotected head.

    Croak!

    A fourth strike came with the realization that it was not a serpent attacking him, but a creature far more annoying. Rasp rolled away from his feathery assailant, pulling his blanket over his head. ¡°Oh come on, old man! I hadn¡¯t gotten to the dessert yet.¡±

    Father yanked Rasp¡¯s covers away, tsking his irritation

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m awake,¡± Rasp assured him, heavy eyelids already drooping.

    The large raven spoke in hushed gurgles and clicks, upsetting the loose piles of curled leaves heaped around them between nervous hops and flutters.

    Rasp nodded along, absentmindedly, as his consciousness slipped back into another confusing dream. A harsh peck to the scalp startled him awake again. ¡°Ah!¡± He clutched the top of his head, grateful he didn¡¯t feel the warm trickle of blood. ¡°Will you stop that? There was a noise in the night and you¡¯re going to go investigate, I heard you.¡±

    Father was an independent spirit. He didn¡¯t normally share such details unless they were pertinent. Try as he might, Rasp simply couldn¡¯t muster the tone that demonstrated both his appreciation and attentiveness to the seriousness at hand. The trouble with relying too heavily on sarcasm was that, after a certain point, his responses all started to sound the same, regardless of his better intentions. ¡°Yeah, I get it. It¡¯s important. I doubt you would have stabbed me awake if it wasn¡¯t.¡±

    Coming off like an asshole here, buddy.

    Rasp dropped his head with a sigh. Unfortunately, the only alternative to sarcasm he could come up with was to speak slowly, with great, methodical care. To Rasp¡¯s annoyance, his efforts sounded somehow more sarcastic. ¡°Thank you for telling me this super important information so early in the morning, Father. Go. Do what you must. I will eagerly await your return.¡±

    Father snapped his beak, unamused.

    ¡°Try not to get eaten by a bear while you¡¯re at it, alright?¡±

    With an exasperated croak, Father¡¯s clawed feet pitter-pattered against the cold ground as he hopped away.

    ¡°I was being serious!¡± Rasp rose into a sitting position, rubbing his weary eyelids with the back of his hand. As usual, the most important sentiments to say were also the most difficult to put words to. ¡°You¡¯re the last family I have. I never thought I would say this, but I think I might actually be sad if something happened to you.¡±

    Unlike that time Rasp accidentally killed him. No sense in dredging up the past, of course.

    With the raven equivalent of a gag, Father took to the crisp air with several mighty flaps of his powerful wings. Naturally, the bastard waited to screech his heartfelt goodbyes until he was soaring off between the trees, already at a distance too far to catch Rasp¡¯s ensuing response, had he chose to make one.

    Stupid, mushy bird, Rasp thought as a slow smile split across his clammy face. The afterlife has made you soft.

    So good to see the two of you not at each other¡¯s throats for a change.

    Rasp¡¯s shoulders went rigid as the smile slipped from his face. Gods, Whisper! Were you eavesdropping on our private conversation this whole time?

    Private would imply you had learned the art of whispered conversation, little bird. I assure you, what I overheard was not that.

    Rasp closed his eyes and challenged his concentration inward. His magic responded faster than usual. Stronger, too. A detail he attributed to the supposed healing properties of the harmony stone as he was too groggy to come up with an alternative explanation. He opened his eyes, wincing as his vision filled with the ghostly glow of the charmed rune symbols. The ripples of magic were there as they had been the night before, currently clustered around the small, hazy blue shape seated against the stone pillar at the center of the decrepit courtyard.

    Perhaps it was the fae¡¯s slumped posture, or the way their words lacked their usual prickliness, but, whatever the case, Rasp found himself doing the unthinkable. Instead of flopping back down to catch a few more hours of precious sleep, he gathered his bedding and rose onto stiff, aching legs. He followed the veins of pulsing magic, feet barely lifting from the ground as he dragged them along, one in front of the other, until he reached the pillar.

    It could not have been more than several yards at most, but he dropped down beside Whisper, grateful to not have to use his legs any more, nonetheless. Rasp pressed his shoulders against the solid stone and eased his eyes shut. The phantom images disappeared from his vision as the haze of  darkness assumed its customary place.

    For someone so lonely, Whisper certainly had an odd way of expressing their gratitude for Rasp¡¯s generous company. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be resting.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to feel sorry for you, either. But you know what they say, delirium works in mysterious ways.¡±

    ¡°No one says that. It doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡±

    ¡°Neither does feeling sorry for you.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Whisper shuddered, quills rattling from the effort. ¡°Spare me your misplaced sympathies.¡±

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m used to you being a prickly bastard,¡± Rasp said, resisting the urge to jab the fae in the ribs with the tip of his elbow for fear of getting spined by Whisper¡¯s toxic quills. He settled for a shit-eating grin instead. ¡°But you seem sadder than usual. You were all taunts last night. What changed? Did the harmony stone stop working its magic on you?¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°On the contrary, I feel better than I have in many moons.¡± Several seconds of uninterrupted staring convinced the fae to be more forthcoming. Whisper relented with a sigh, ¡°You were not wrong about ghosts existing in places such as this. It is memories, not spirits, however, that haunt me.¡±

    Rasp gnawed the edge of his lip as he considered Whisper¡¯s answer. ¡°Memories of what?¡±

    ¡°The before.¡± Whisper¡¯s clawed fingertips tapped against the stone, producing faint clicks. ¡°The world has changed so much since the second generation of magic, that sometimes I barely recognize it. Time works differently in places like this. It gets trapped, straddling the line between past and present, preserving a sliver of what once was.¡±

    Rasp wondered if his mentor purposely said things he had no way of understanding as a means to get him to ask questions. Which, upon greater reflection, could not possibly have been the case. Whisper hated answering questions nearly as much as they loathed providing non-vague answers.

    ¡°The second generation of magic refers to the emergence of fae, little bird.¡±

    Rasp frowned, vowing to start picturing everyone naked if only to keep the meddlesome fae from gleaning his thoughts.

    You do that already. It has yet to stop me.

    ¡°Moving on,¡± Rasp announced, deciding this wasn¡¯t a topic either of them wanted to dwell on any longer than necessary. He trawled the limited depths of past history lessons as to why this term sounded familiar. ¡°The second generation of magic was around the time you popped into existence then, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Gods, you¡¯re old. Like really old. It¡¯s got to be tough, though. I can¡¯t imagine living all those years, thousands upon thousands, just to waste the precious few you have left lugging around the mortal equivalent of a newborn fae.¡±

    Whisper did the sensible thing and ignored the dig. ¡°I¡¯m not sure where you¡¯re going with this, but yes. I was there to witness it all. The death of the old ones, the time of fae, the emergence of mortal-kind, and the poor decisions that led to them becoming the dominant lifeforms.¡±

    Rasp tucked the edges of the blanket beneath him as he slumped lower. He rested his head against the mossy stone and closed his eyes. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±

    ¡°Since when do you care to learn anything?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s this place,¡± Rasp explained. ¡°Too spooky to sleep. I need something really tedious to put me out.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I had better start at the very beginning. The birth of magic.¡±

    Rasp nodded his approval, stifling a yawn with his hand. ¡°Perfect. I can feel the boredom already setting in.¡±

    Whisper¡¯s words flowed over Rasp¡¯s mind like water across silk. ¡°There have been three generations since the birth of magic. The old ones, great beings of unimaginable might, were the first. When the magic of the new world dwindled, so too did the old ones, giving way to the time of fae. As our corporeal forms were smaller, we did not require as much magic to sustain life, thus allowing us to exist far longer than our predecessors.

    ¡°Mortal-kind was the third generation. But, by the time the first elves walked the land, the spark of the new world had dimmed. Mortals were cursed to live an existence without magic. For many millennia, we fae existed beside our non-magical brethren, watching as they struggled to carve out an existence built upon unimaginable hardship. My people took pity on them and bestowed the first mortal with magic. The others of my kind saw it as a gift meant to be passed down from one generation to the next and were happy to share.¡±

    Whisper paused before saying, ¡°The first mortal ever gifted magic was a human. Did you know that?¡±

    Rasp spoke with his eyes closed. ¡°Of course. They put it in the manual we humans are issued at birth. It¡¯s right up there with the meaning of life and how to flip a bloody pancake.¡±

    ¡°Humans were the most pitiful of all mortals.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°They were not strong like orcs, skilled like dwarfs, nor clever like elves. Their meager lives were short, even by mortal standards. Destined to spend the few years they had clinging to survival and barely managing that.¡±

    ¡°Okay, now you¡¯re just being insulting.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just it. I was insulted,¡± Whisper said, their melodic voice taking on an unusually hollow ring. ¡°My people were stewards of the land, gifted with abilities beyond imagination. I didn¡¯t understand why anyone would risk surrendering the most important piece of themselves for another, especially not to a species I considered inferior.¡±

    Rasp waited for the eventual ¡®but¡¯. For whatever reason, it never came. ¡°I¡¯m starting to get the feeling you didn¡¯t have a change of mind.¡±

    ¡°My views on mortals may have softened since then, but I abide by my original stance. It was a fool¡¯s errand, insisting that mortal-kind would take advantage. But my people were too blinded with their own good intentions to realize their folly. They gave anyway, selflessly, teaching the humans how to harness magic in order to enrich their meager lives. All was well at first. The humans were grateful for the gift they had been granted and treated it with great reverence, passing their magic on from one generation to the next. Their numbers increased, as a result, and it was not long before the human population swept across the land, spreading tales of the gift of magic as they went.

    ¡°Others species learned of the gift and grew envious of the favor bestowed upon humankind. They sought us out, asking for similar treatment. My people were accommodating, at first. But it was only a matter of time before the asking turned to demanding. Soon, what power the mortals had been granted was no longer enough. In their quest for might, the ungrateful mortals turned on the fae, stealing their magic by any means necessary.¡±

    It was Rasp¡¯s turn to voice his displeasure through the use of unintelligible sound. ¡°Ugh.¡±

    ¡°My thoughts exactly.¡±

    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know what to say to any of that.¡±

    ¡°Then say nothing. Sit in the uncomfortability of truth, and vow to remember. There is nothing we can do to change the past. We can only strive to do better.¡±

    Rasp placed his hand on what he hoped was Whisper¡¯s shoulder, realizing he had something to contribute after all. ¡°I vow to find a way to give you the happy ending you deserve.¡±

    And, in a mere matter of words, they were right back where they¡¯d started. To his credit, Rasp hadn''t meant to make an inappropriate joke. Words just had a funny way of coming out of his mouth and arranging themselves in the worst way possible. Worse yet, judging from the weird numbness spreading within his hand, Rasp now realized he must have accidentally pricked himself on one of Whisper¡¯s quills.

    Heat flooded up his arm as his bones turned weightless. Drool dribbled from his bottom lip as he managed a single word of regret. ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°Rest well, little bird.¡± Whisper¡¯s voice sounded far away, nearly lost to the distance. ¡°You will undoubtedly need it.¡±

    The muscles propping Rasp up against the harmony stone went slack. Slowly, as if caught in slow motion, he listed to the side and struck the ground, too numb to feel the resulting pain. Reality disintegrated piece by piece before his mind went dark completely. A warmth flooded his bones, pulsing in time to the magic thrumming from the harmony stone beside him.

    When his heavy eyes opened again, still steadily crossing from one plane of reality into the next, Rasp found himself slumped over a familiar table, in a familiar room, with sunlight pouring in from the kitchen window. The heavenly aroma of sweet plums, buttery crust, and thyme clouded the balmy air. Happiness erupted within his rapidly beating chest when Rasp recognized where the dream had delivered him.

    An unfamiliar voice beckoned. It was tender and soft, as inviting as a mother¡¯s embrace. All of Rasp¡¯s troubles faded as the soothing words, pulsing in time to the magic from the harmony stone, rippled across his weary mind. Hello, little one. I¡¯ve waited for you for so long. Hurry now. It¡¯s not far. You¡¯re almost home.

 160 - Earning Your Lumps

    After the fourth day at sea, Daana hardly noticed the heaving ocean swell beneath her feet. She¡¯d heard the phenomenon referred to as ¡®sea legs¡¯ before, and was secretly pleased that hers had come in rather naturally. The same could not be said for Snag, who spent most of his time bent over the railing, feeding the fishes, as Ellisar lovingly called it.

    Regardless of her newfound ability to walk the ship like a seasoned sailor, Daana was still nowhere near the level of either Ashwyn or Ellisar. They took to it like ducks to water. Unfortunately, this meant that Ashwyn gave no quarter when it came to Daana¡¯s training, either. The orc didn¡¯t care about the height of the swell or the fact that there was a limited area to train her pupil, she made do no matter the circumstances.

    Ashwyn convinced the captain to allow her to use a section of the top deck each afternoon for rigorous training sessions. It hadn¡¯t been so bad at first, back when the lessons were relatively easy and there wasn¡¯t an eager crowd gathered around to watch. Alas, as Daana¡¯s lessons progressed, she found herself not only challenged, but under the scrutiny of an unhelpful audience as well. Any crew members not on duty would line the rails and rigging, eager for a show.

    ¡°Alright, Peaches. We¡¯re not finished until you¡¯ve proved that you learned something. Come at me again, and I mean with gusto this time!¡±

    Daana adjusted her grip on the shortsword in her hand and heaved her shield back into position. These were not the wooden replicas she¡¯d seen the cadets use back in the palace training yard at Sunstorn. The sword and shield were real, dangerous, and miserably heavy. Ashwyn insisted that the best way to learn was to use the real thing. Real bruises were a heavily used portion of her training sessions, too.

    With a gargled sound caught somewhere between a scream and groan, Daana rushed her trainer. She swung her blade only to have it met by a lackadaisical block from Ashwyn. Undeterred, Daana pivoted, ever mindful of her footing and cut the air once, twice, three times, before she was swept off her feet with a simple kick from the grinning orc. The crowd cheered, happy as always to have a show.

    ¡°Ugh!¡± Daana closed her eyes and rested her head against the oiled deck. Just as she thought she was starting to get the hang of something, her trainer would insert something new. It was always two steps forward, one painful step backwards. Over, and over, and over again.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t watching your distance,¡± Ashwyn¡¯s cheery voice called from above her. ¡°Come on, get up. Let¡¯s go at it again.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t fair.¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s not fair. The next soldier you face off with, do you suppose they¡¯re going to go easy on you just because you¡¯re pretty? At least the lumps I¡¯m giving you aren¡¯t deadly.¡±

    Daana sat up, but refused to stand. What did it matter? She¡¯d wind up back on the ground in a matter of seconds anyway. ¡°The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. That¡¯s what we are doing here.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. I¡¯ve given three different wallops today, and each time, you remember what to do to avoid it.¡±

    ¡°Just to turn around and wallop me some other way!¡±

    ¡°And one day, Peaches, I will have run out of wallops to give you and you will be trained.¡±

    ¡°No thank you,¡± Daana said, trying to avoid the gawking stares that came at her from all sides as she eased back down. She understood the point of training and had come to accept that, like anything, she¡¯d be terrible at it from the start. Truth be told, Ashwyn¡¯s wallops weren¡¯t even that bad. It was the taunting audience that discouraged her the most. ¡°I think I¡¯ll just stay down here a bit longer.¡±

    A shadow slid down from the rigging and landed lightly on the deck between them. ¡°Actually,¡± Ellisar said, hands on her hips, ¡°she has a point.¡±

    The elf¡¯s frilly dress and sharp waistcoat had been traded for the practicality of trousers and a loose fitted tunic top. Ellisar would have added a sword¨Cmultiple swords, in fact, had she gotten her way¨Cbut Snag and Ashwyn insisted it might be safer for everyone if she didn¡¯t. The salty sea air was causing her to act strangely. More strangely, at least, which seemed to have the other two worried.

    ¡°Have you been drinking salt water again, miss?¡± A taunting smile drew across Ashwyn¡¯s mouth. ¡°Since when are you in agreement with our dear secretary over, frankly, anything? Ever?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°You¡¯re training her like she¡¯s an orc,¡± Ellisar pointed out. ¡°No matter how many times you wallop her, she¡¯s never going to be able to beat your size or strength. She¡¯s an elf. She needs to learn how to fight like one.¡±

    ¡°Is this your offer to take over the training then?¡±

    Ellisar snapped the sword from Daana¡¯s grasp and checked its balance in the palm of her hand. With a disapproving frown curled across her lips, she twirled the blade and approached Ashwyn unafraid. ¡°Fuck no. But maybe if she sees the right way to take down a stronger opponent, she can sleep tonight with a few less broken ribs.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about fucking time.¡± Ashwyn widened her stance as she lowered into an eager crouch. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting all week for you to throw your weight around.¡±

    Daana scrambled to her feet and sought the railing, wedging herself between two sun-crusted sailors. Wordlessly, the human to her left offered a flask and Daana took it without question. She would have preferred water, but the warm bite of grog at least helped wash away the copper taste of blood from her mouth. Daana passed the flask back, noting the mood of the audience had changed. The off-duty crew members sat straighter, as if they too sensed they were about to witness something memorable.

    Ellisar wasted no time with theatrics. A fraction of a second later, her lithe form was across the deck and inside Ashwyn¡¯s guard. The blade of the shortsword cast off glimmers of refracted sunlight as it weaved in and out with dizzying speed. Ashwyn allowed her shield to weather most of the attack as she lurched forward, pushing Ellisar into a retreat in order to gain the upperhand. Just as she got the elf maneuvered into a more favorable position, Ellisar was gone, having slipped from range with surefooted ease.

    They went at it like this for several turns. Ellisar on the offense, forcing Ashwyn to play defense. Each time Ashwyn attempted to breach Ellisar¡¯s guard or pin her into a corner, Ellisar would move again. Gradually, Ashwyn¡¯s steady blocks grew slower. Her feet didn¡¯t shift as quickly as before and the shield started to dip.

    Ellisar retreated several paces backwards, calling to Daana without lifting her eyes from her opponent. ¡°You will never match an orc in size or strength. The only way to gain ground is to use their weaknesses to your advantage. We may be smaller, but we¡¯re faster too. Don¡¯t waste your time trading strokes looking to land a fatal blow. Your objective is to strike over and over, in and out, dodging retaliation at every opportunity.¡±

    She lunged, dodging a swing from Ashwyn¡¯s sword and retaliated with one of her own. Sidestepping, one foot over the other, Ellisar weaved around her opponent, managing to sneak in several strikes before retreating once more. ¡°But speed is only half the battle. If you want to win, then you have to wear your opponent down. An angry fighter makes more mistakes. Don¡¯t be afraid to piss them off. Throw in whatever cheap shots you can get away with.¡±

    To demonstrate, Ellisar closed the gap, ducked, rolled, and came up behind her wife. A kick to the back of Ashwyn¡¯s knee sent the orc spilling forward. Ashwyn came back up snarling. She pivoted around, swinging her sword in a wide arc, but found nothing but empty space. Realizing her error, Ashwyn turned and raised her shield in time to block the blow from Ellisar¡¯s sword. Little by little, the attacks ate at Ashwyn¡¯s stamina. She eventually stopped attempting blows of her own and used her sword and shield to prevent the mounting assault from hitting anything vital. Ellisar managed to send her off balance several more times. By the fifth fall, Ashwyn conceded the fight with the tip of Ellisar¡¯s sword pressed to her exposed throat.

    Through the sweat rolling from her brow, Ashwyn¡¯s dark gray eyes held Ellisar¡¯s stare without flinching. Daana didn¡¯t see anger, not even a thread of shame. If she didn¡¯t know better, she would have sworn the orc looked¡­hungry? Surely that wasn¡¯t the right word. Still, there was an unmistakable glimmer of desire etched across Ashwyn¡¯s weary face.

    ¡°It¡¯s incredible to think I used to be able to keep up with you,¡± she panted.

    ¡°No, I was slowing down for you back then too.¡±

    ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m not obligated to fight fair.¡± Quick as a viper, the orc knocked the sword from Ellisar¡¯s grasp and lunged, catching the her wife around the knees. Ellisar went down with an awkward squawk. She flailed, using the point of her elbows and knees to break Ashwyn¡¯s crushing grip. They rolled to a stop, with Ashwyn on top, using her weight to pin the struggling elf beneath her.

    ¡°Get the fuck off me!¡±

    Ashwyn leaned forward and whispered just low enough for Daana¡¯s ears to catch, ¡°You use that language with me again, miss, and I will not hesitate to dole out your demerits right here.¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s already flushed face turned a shade pinker. Her furtive struggling ceased almost instantly.

    The orc¡¯s mouth twisted to the side disapprovingly. ¡°No? What happened to your sense of adventure?¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s mouth parted, but before any words could escape, something solid rapped against the wooden deck, drawing every eye. Snag stood at the front of the main cabin, leaning heavily on his ornate walking stick. His withering glare cut worse than his words. ¡°Will the bodyguard please release my business partner?¡±

    Concealing her smile, Ashwyn rolled obediently to her feet. ¡°Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.¡±

    Most of the audience suddenly realized they had something more pressing to attend to and scattered, leaving the deck mostly empty. Snag stalked towards Daana, his left leg dragging just enough to be noticeable. He rested against the splintered railing and rolled his head backwards. ¡°Thought you were supposed to be the one getting your ass beat.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on!¡± Daana protested, fists curled in exasperation. ¡°It was just getting good. I¡¯ve never seen anyone catch Ellisar off guard before.¡±

    The start of a knowing smile threatened to pull across Snag¡¯s mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t act upset about the lesson. You just want to know what a demerit is.¡±

 161 - Icky-Sticky Sentiments

    Ellisar retired to the cabin not long after the training session. Ashwyn stayed on deck, attempting to stay in character or, at the very least, make it less obvious that she planned to follow and commit some form of war crime in the name of romance. The orc lounged against the splintered railing, trading friendly conversation with Snag and Daana. Despite Ashwyn¡¯s efforts, the impatient shake in her leg was giving away the fact that there was somewhere else she clearly wanted to be.

    Snag, having come to the same conclusion as Daana, took great pleasure in extending the orc¡¯s misery for as long as she¡¯d let him. He asked questions, contributed enthusiastic replies consisting of more than one word and not just a harsh look, all while acting truly engaged in small talk¨Can activity he normally avoided like the spotted plague.

    ¡°So let me get this right,¡± Snag said, not bothering to hide the shit-eating grin split across his weathered face. ¡°You¡¯re saying heat and salinity affect an ocean¡¯s current?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Not just wind, like most land walkers think.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating. Truly, truly fascinating.¡±

    A gray blanket of fog stretched around them, obscuring anything more than a few yards away. Daana couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d glimpsed the sky. While she may have been on the open ocean, with nothing but miles of rolling waves from one horizon to the next, she felt trapped, like a porcelain figure stuck inside of a swirling snow globe. She kept waiting, days upon days, for the oppressing fog to lift, but it never did.

    Ashwyn seemed utterly unfazed by the drab weather. The orc tilted her head at Snag, awarding him the mother of all side-eye glances. ¡°Mate, no offense, but I know you don¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about ocean currents.¡±

    Snag¡¯s needled grin stretched wider. ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t. But I do enjoy putting a damper in Ellisar¡¯s day from a safe distance, when I can.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s fingers drummed against the wooden railing. ¡°You think enough time has passed? It won¡¯t look suspicious if I mosey on up to the cabin?¡±

    ¡°No, not at all. The crew would be silly to suspect something going on between my bodyguard and business partner. It¡¯s not like you two were clambering on top of each other with a deck full of sailors watching, ¡®bout ready to tear your clothes off.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. I can¡¯t help it. I try to show more restraint, but when it comes to Ellie, she¡¯s like¡­¡± Ashwyn curled her hand into a fist as she considered the most poetic way to describe her lover. ¡°A set of cooking tongs.¡±

    Daana lifted her eyebrow curiously. ¡°Cooking tongs?¡±

    ¡°No matter how many times you¡¯ve clacked those fuckers together, the moments they¡¯re in your hand again, you compelled to give ¡®em a snap. It¡¯s irresistible.¡±

    Snag nodded his understanding, long ears bobbing behind him with a jingle. ¡°You should put that in a romantic letter to her. Preserve it for all of time. Women love being compared to kitchen implements, so I¡¯ve heard.¡±

    ¡°Eh, we can¡¯t all be wordsmiths. Being handsy has served me better anyways.¡±

    ¡°Gross,¡± Daana muttered.

    Unlike Daana, Snag wasn¡¯t done poking the proverbial bear yet. ¡°What kind of tongs, specifically, are we talking about here? Iron? Bronze? I feel like we¡¯re missing some important context.¡±

    ¡°Alright, if you two are done having your fun, I¡¯d like to go rejoin my missus before she starts crawling up the walls like a cat in heat.¡±

    ¡°Double gross,¡± Daana said. Especially considering they shared a cabin. It was better for her peace of mind if she didn¡¯t know what sort of terrible things the pair got up to during their romantic couplings.

    Snag shooed Ashwyn off with a wave of his clawed hand. ¡°Fine, go. And lock the fucking door this time, will ya? I don¡¯t think my poor eyes can handle another scarring like that last one.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t mention the tongs thing to Ellie, right? It¡¯s sort of an analogy in progress.¡± Ashwyn swaggered off at a speed that was a little too fast to be convincing. She called one last thing over her shoulder. ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t come knocking for at least an hour. Else you are definitely going to get scarred again.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got half that.¡± Snag¡¯s yellow eyes slowly roved in Daana¡¯s direction. His tone dropped menacingly. ¡°Should be all the time we need to get this ugly business over with.¡±

    Daana¡¯s spine straightened under the weight of his unrelenting glare. Crap.

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    The last four days had been tense between them. The few times Daana attempted to strike up a conversation with Snag, he¡¯d give noncommittal, one word answers. She gave up eventually, resigned to the knowledge that he would come around on his own when he was ready. In the meantime, she¡¯d reluctantly accepted that Snag¡¯s short answers and refusal to look her in the eye were his personal way of showing she had yet to regain his favor.

    Shame gnawed at her internal organs until her insides felt as though they had twisted into one giant, slippery knot. Daana tried to apologize. Many, many times, in fact, but it didn¡¯t make things better between them. Alas, all she could do was wait for Snag to come around on his own. A prospect that, until now, Daana was starting to fear would never come.

    It wouldn¡¯t be long before they reached land. Another week or so after that and she¡¯d be in the flatlands with her mother. Snag wouldn¡¯t have any reason to stick around then. Daana had held out hope that they would reconcile before his parting. After four torturous days of the silent treatment, it seemed their moment had finally come. At least she hoped so. Admittedly, a part of her feared whatever Snag was going to say next would hurt infinitely worse than silence. The thought of being disowned was a prospect that lurked along the edges of Daana¡¯s mind, steadily gnawing away at what little self-confidence she had.

    ¡°Dear gods, girl, your face. If you¡¯re going to chum, do me a favor and do it in the water,¡± Snag said with a shudder. ¡°Otherwise the smell¡¯s going to get me going too. Frankly, I don¡¯t think I have anything in me left. Not that I¡¯m eager to test that theory.¡±

    Daana¡¯s heart raced with a runaway gallop. Here it was, her final chance to make everything right again. And, if she couldn¡¯t manage that, then at least she could get it off her chest. ¡°Snag, I¨C¡±

    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m doing the talking here, not you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Daana wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good sign or not. Regardless, she waited, for what felt like ages.

    Snag wasn¡¯t in much of a hurry. He stood against the railing, bundled in several layers of clothing, looking greener in the face than someone with green skin ought to. His collar was pulled all the way up around his neck and his head was bent against the wind. The only demonstrable sign of life were his eyes, which flickered back and forth across the ship, taking in every passing detail.

    Finally, after the most unbearable of stretches, he said, ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about you and this incessant need to use magic, and I realized something. No matter what I say, you¡¯re going to do it again.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Daana objected. ¡°I swear. I said I wouldn¡¯t. I¨C¡±

    ¡°Would you let me finish?¡± He held up one gnarled hand, staying the flow of words from her open mouth. Snag¡¯s ears drooped as his gaze drifted away, unwilling to meet her gaze for more than a second. ¡°Like I said, I had time to think about it. Not only are you going to do it again, but I realized it¡¯d be unfair to expect anything different. Don¡¯t get me wrong, keeping the armlets was still stupid. Like really stupid.¡±

    Daana winced at his words, hoping there would be more to them than just a laundry list of all the many, many ways she was stupid.

    ¡°You may not be a witch, but magic is what you do. It¡¯s a part of what you are. And it wasn¡¯t right of me to try and force you to be something you¡¯re not. Even if I don¡¯t understand it, this whole magic nonsense is what makes you, you.¡±

    She didn¡¯t know what to say to that. From his uneasy expression, appearing as though he was considering jumping overboard into the ocean to avoid being here, Daana decided perhaps it would be best not to say anything at all.

    ¡°It¡¯s just,¡± Snag said as his narrow shoulders slumped lower, ¡°be smarter about it, is all? Will you? Don¡¯t pull magic unless you absolutely have to. At least not until we get you to your mom and she can tell us how to fix it, yeah?¡±

    Biting her lip to keep from saying something really stupid, Daana managed a nod.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I acted how I did. You owned your mistake and you¡¯ve been trying to make it up to me in your own weird way, but I just¡­¡± Words failed him. Snag took a shaky breath and held it, before releasing it as a hiss through tightly clenched teeth. ¡°It¡¯s one thing to watch it happen outside of your control, but to see someone willfully endanger their life because they¡¯re not using their brain, it¡¯s downright maddening.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°I know. And me too.¡± Another stretch of silence ticked by before Snag unclenched his teeth with a sigh. ¡°Losing Curly hurt in ways I didn¡¯t think an old toad like me was capable of feeling. I don¡¯t ever want to ever go through that again. So, if you could, maybe don¡¯t put me right back in that same situation? Don¡¯t make me watch you poison yourself piece by piece?¡±

    An uncomfortable lump formed in Daana¡¯s throat. The pain she¡¯d been ignoring since the mountain, an ever-present weight that lingered deep in the pit of her soul, flared to life once more. Memories of Curly threatened to overtake her senses. Not the time or the place. She winced, willing the thoughts back down.. Stay focused, dammit!

    Snag¡¯s irritated stare took her in before it swept back across the foggy deck. ¡°I prefer not to feel things. Especially not the icky-sticky sentiments your dumb face gives me.¡±

    Daana fought the urge to start running the rail-to-rail deck sprints Ashwyn made her carry out every morning. Her sore body, thankfully, protested the very idea. Thus, Daana stood stock still with her arms pulled tight to her chest instead, forced to feel all of her own icky-sticky sentiments bubbling up inside of her. Of all the ways she¡¯d envisioned their reconciliation to go, she hadn¡¯t expected it to end so endearingly.

    ¡°Snag?¡± she said, once the lump her throat had eased a little.

    The goblin¡¯s response came in the form of a disgusted grunt.

    Daana took it as the go-ahead to speak. ¡°Can I hug you?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely fucking not.¡±

    ¡°Then can I say something¡­vulnerable?¡±

    ¡°Save it for your mother, girl.¡±

    Daana said it anyway, even though she suspected that deep, deep down, Snag already knew. ¡°If I had a father, I¡¯d want him to be just like you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Snag threw a single, clawed finger into the air as he shoved away from the splintered railing. ¡°Where¡¯s that damned plank Ellisar¡¯s always going on about? I¡¯m ready to walk it now.¡±

 162 - Piss And Vinegar

    ¡°Come on, girl,¡± Snag said, starting back towards their cabin at a pitiful shuffle. ¡°I¡¯m gonna ice to death If we dawdle out here any longer.¡±

    A smirk pulled at the corner of Daana¡¯s mouth as she followed. While the majority of Rasp¡¯s idioms had stood the test of time, she suspected Snag had started to invent some of his own. He wouldn¡¯t admit it, but there was no way anyone, not even Rasp, could have possibly taught Snag so many wrong expressions in such little time.

    A fierce wind had picked up, blowing banks of fog across the sparse deck, making it impossible to see anything more than a few paces ahead or behind. The only sailors topside were those with the misfortune of being on duty. They stood bundled in all their layers, huddled against the elements, looking like stone sentinels in the shifting gray light as Daana and Snag made their way to the cabin.

    The door was locked, as requested. Snag suddenly didn¡¯t seem too concerned with witnessing another crime against the senses as he pounded his fist against the splintered wood, shouting to be let in. A set of heavy footsteps approached from the inside. Daana assumed it was Ashwyn as Ellisar would have played a drawn-out game of what¡¯s-the-password purely for her own entertainment. The draw bar lifted away and the heavy door swung open with an agonized creak, aided by the blustering wind. Snag dipped inside first, followed swiftly by Daana, who had to brace her shoulder against the door in order to get it shut again.

    Snag¡¯s gaze settled on Ellisar¡¯s still form. ¡°You still alive over there, kitchen tongs?¡±

    Ashwyn and Ellisar¡¯s bed consisted of a pile of blankets shoved in the corner nearest the door. Ellisar was currently sprawled beneath the topmost cover, with an arm draped over her face and a bare foot sticking out over the edge of the nest. She spoke without moving. ¡°Do you ever stop and wonder if your insults make sense before they come bumbling out of your mouth?¡±

    Snag¡¯s shit-eating grin was back, wider than before. His yellow eyes darted to Ashwyn. ¡°It¡¯s an inside joke. Had to be there, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Jokes are supposed to be funny, Snag.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s wide-eyed gaze pleaded with him for it to remain an inside joke.

    Snag must have been in an especially forgiving mood because he conceded the issue with a wave. ¡°You¡¯re right, El. My mistake.¡±

    Still wearing the smuggest smile Daana had seen in ages, the goblin swaggered over to the cabin¡¯s only bunk and disappeared beneath the covers. Considering it was his money that¡¯d secured them passage, no one had the guts, much less poor manners, to fight him for use of the bed.

    With a relieved sigh, Ashwyn returned to the game of cards she had laid out across the table.

    Daana joined her, trying not to appear too eager.

    The orc noticed regardless of Daana¡¯s noble attempts to keep a straight face. Ashwyn swept up the cards with practiced ease. ¡°You look like you¡¯re in the mood to lose some more money, Peaches. Ready to try your luck again?¡±

    Daana shrugged one shoulder. ¡°I mean, if you want to. Sure.¡±

    Totally nailing this whole passive disinterest thing.

    Card games were one of the few ways they had to pass the time and Daana was getting increasingly better at it. The trick to bluffing, she discovered, was to pretend you didn¡¯t know what you were doing. Which really wasn¡¯t all that hard because she barely understood the rules of the game as it were. It didn¡¯t help that the rules seemed to change depending on whom she was playing against.

    ¡°You hear that, Ellie?¡± Ashwyn called over her shoulder. ¡°I am successfully corrupting her one hand at a time.¡±

    ¡°Robbing her blind does not qualify as corrupting,¡± Ellisar¡¯s voice uttered from beneath the arm draped over her face.

    Ashwyn winked knowingly at Daana. ¡°She¡¯s still a little sore over you calling her bluff last time.¡±

    Daana watched Ashwyn shuffle the deck with a practiced hand, absolutely mesmerized. It was like street magic, except in this case the dealer was upfront about wanting to steal your pocket money from the start. Daana hadn¡¯t had any experience with cards prior to the trip. Card games had been looked down upon in the capital, and while a number of the students got together to play at the academy, she¡¯d never been invited to join. She didn¡¯t care so much about winning¨Ceven though she was starting to show a knack for it. She liked the shit-talking part of the event, particularly where she got to practice hers.

    There was also the added fact that it was easier to pry information out of Ashwyn when she was trying to cheat at cards. The orc dealt the appropriate number and got right to business, adopting what she thought was an unreadable poker face. Out of courtesy, Daana threw a few hands before she started to fish for information. ¡°So,¡± she started, her gaze moving across the room to Ellisar¡¯s nest of blankets across from her. ¡°You never did tell me the story of how you two met.¡±

    Ashwyn continued to stare intently at her hand. ¡°Work.¡±

    ¡°Back at the tower you said you met Ellisar during an arrest.¡±

    Apparently this statement was pointed enough to break Ashwyn¡¯s undivided attention. She peeked up from over the top of her cards, imparting a devious grin. ¡°Did I, now? Oh dear me, it¡¯s been so long I hardly remember.¡±

    Ellisar flipped over with a grunt but said nothing of substance.

    Her wife continued, undeterred. ¡°Although, now that you mention it, it does sound a little familiar. Something about an arrest, yes. I think you¡¯re right, Peaches. Oh, if only I could remember the specifics. I daresay, it¡¯s probably an incredible story, brimming with scandal, intrigue, and betrayal¨C¡±

    ¡°Sweet goddess!¡± Ellisar threw her hands into the air above her head in exasperation. ¡°Just get it over with. You¡¯re obviously dying to tell her.¡±

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    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you don¡¯t love the story as much as I do.¡± She thumped the top of her leg, beckoning for Ellisar to come sit. ¡°Remove your ass from that bed and come plant it here. My retelling just isn¡¯t the same without you constantly correcting my every detail.¡±

    Wearing the thin blanket as a robe, Ellisar stood and trudged over. She settled into an open chair instead, meeting Ashwyn¡¯s disappointed pout with a wolfish smile.

    Their silent standoff lasted only a few moments before Ashwyn gave in with a reluctant sigh. She drummed her fingertips against the wood table, wondering aloud, ¡°Now where to begin?¡±

    ¡°Most people start at the beginning,¡± Ellisar replied.

    ¡°Well aren¡¯t you just full of piss and vinegar today.¡± Ashwyn extended her hand in her partner¡¯s direction in a silent request for some romantic hand-holding. She got a foot instead. Undeterred, the orc clamped her hands around Ellisar¡¯s ankle and used it to pull her closer. ¡°As my lovely partner suggested, I suppose we should start at the beginning. I was born into a family of four: a mother, father, and an older sister. Mother died in some war before I learned to walk and Father succumbed to heartbreak during my pre adolescent years. Our aunt took Ra-Ra and I in¨C¡±

    ¡°Not that beginning.¡± Realizing her error, Ellisar braced her other foot against the planked flooring to avoid being yanked into her wife¡¯s awaiting lap. For someone so determined to put up a fight, the teasing smile formed across the elf¡¯s lips spoke of another truth. Ellisar was playing her own game. ¡°Get to the good part.¡±

    ¡°Are you insinuating that my life was boring before I met you?¡±

    ¡°Tragically boring. You put me to sleep every time you talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Skipping several hundred not boring years ahead, I found myself employed as a bounty hunter in the service of the United Territories of the Realm. I¡¯m not one to blow my own horn here, but I was pretty good at it too.¡±

    ¡°Debatable,¡± Ellisar countered as her chair continued to scoot across the rickety floor with an obnoxious screech.

    Ellisar was nearly within reach now. Instead of grabbing her, Ashwyn let the elf flail, unable to free herself from the trap of her own doing. Whatever strange game it was, they both seemed in on it, delighted to play their respective parts.

    Ashwyn continued, ¡°At the time, I¡¯d just gotten a good lead on a mid-level bandit that had been giving the realm the runaround. Unbeknownst to me and the rest of the law-abiding world, Ellie here was only a pirate half the year. She¡¯d dock Before the Fall every winter and go find some other way to cause mayhem. She operated under a number of different criminal aliases, of course. Which is why when I discovered her well on her way to being drunk at her favorite seedy tavern, I had no idea what sort of mess I¡¯d just gotten myself into.¡±

    Daana¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You arrested her at a tavern?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, no, no. That would have been too obvious. She¡¯d earned herself quite a reputation for being a slippery devil when it came to arrests. So I bought her a drink first, and then another, and another. According to my information, it wasn¡¯t unusual for her to leave in the company of a stranger for a night or two. I figured if I could get her to leave with me willingly, I could get a good two day lead before the rest of her gang realized she was missing.¡±

    ¡°You flirted your way into an arrest?¡±

    Ellisar gave in to exhaustion and went limp, unwilling to fight the inevitable any longer. ¡°The mung weed helped, too.¡±

    ¡°She was supposed to be a decent fighter even when shitfaced, so I thought it best to take precautions.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s resulting smile was triumphant. She leaned forward and caught Ellisar around the waist, pulling her into her lap with ease. The elf automatically went limp like a dead fish. ¡°I tried to be stealthy and lace her drink with liquid mung weed, but she saw me pull it out of my pocket and downed the whole vial for the fun of it. That much mung weed would¡¯ve killed a normal person. El of course knocked back a whole round of drinks before offering to walk me back to the inn. I got her around the back and threw her onto my horse and we stole away into the night. She was surprisingly docile the first few days on the road. On account of the withdrawals, I later learned.¡±

    For someone who had fought tooth and nail not to be there, Ellisar looked extraordinarily comfortable lounged across Ashwyn¡¯s lap. She even stopped checking over her wife¡¯s cards long enough to offer Daana a suitable explanation. ¡°My diet at the time consisted of booze and various types of¡­what¡¯s your big-brained word for it?¡±

    Daana rolled her eyes. ¡°I only called it illicit substances once.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the stuff.¡±

    ¡°I am reluctant to admit that her docility lulled me into a false sense of accomplishment,¡± Ashwyn said. ¡°I thought I really had outsmarted the area¡¯s most wanted criminal. Turns out, she just liked the attention. I didn¡¯t come to find out she was only playing nice until we were three days out from our destination. I¡¯d made camp and had just bedded down for the night when we got jumped by the local wanna-be-bandit baddies. These weren¡¯t Ellie¡¯s people, mind you. A real ragtag operation, but they had numbers on their side.

    ¡°I only managed to get two or three down before the rest of the gang rushed me. Just as I feared I was done for, this beauty here came cutting through their ranks. She¡¯d slipped her manacles and borrowed a blade from an unsuspecting bandit. I should have been scared out of my wits, but all I could think of was how hot it was. Together, we made short work of the bandits before the rest ran off with their tails tucked between their legs.¡±

    Ashwyn lifted her hand and cupped Ellisar¡¯s chin lovingly. ¡°Do you remember what happened next?¡±

    ¡°You dropped your sword and asked if you could kiss me.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Daana said.

    ¡°And then when she leaned in, I took her blade and clamped the irons back on her.¡± Ashwyn broke into a fit of laughter, barely able to get the rest of her words out. ¡°Goddess almighty, you should have heard the mouth on her. She was beyond pissed. I¡¯d never heard such colorful language in all my life. I gathered our stuff and threw her back onto the horse. The little pissant dug her heels into the horse and took off without me. Unfortunately, with her hands chained behind her back, she wasn¡¯t able to hold on for long and I found herself upside down in a ditch half a mile down. I hauled her to her feet and told her ¡®anymore of that, miss, and I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to have to get cross with you¡¯.¡±

    There was a strange, dreamy look to Ellisar¡¯s face as she practically melted in Ashwyn¡¯s lap. ¡°And that¡¯s the moment I knew I was going to corrupt you.¡±

    Remembering she was the one who asked about the story, Daana decided against uttering ¡®gross¡¯ out loud.

    ¡°The rest of the journey was uneventful after that. Ellie behaved herself long enough for me to get her to the city and collect my reward. I¡¯d never felt bad about turning in a bounty before, but I still believed in civic duty and all that nonsense at that time. With the hanging due to commence the following day, I rode out of that city as hard and as far as I could. Got myself a nice little room in an inn along the road and drowned my troubles in a couple stiff drinks. I could barely walk when I made it back up the stairs. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door to find this one in bed waiting for me.¡±

    Ellisar was back to studying her wife¡¯s cards, all while her hand stealthily reached across the table to pocket the money pool. ¡°I thought it would be polite to wait until after she handed me over to escape for real.¡±

    ¡°I about had a heart attack. I thought maybe she¡¯d come to kill me. Instead, little miss bright eyes over here sits up with a grin split from ear to ear and says ¡®That was the easiest money I¡¯ve ever made. Want to collect a few more of my bounties before they catch on?¡¯¡± She readjusted Ellisar in her lap, preventing her from pocketing the money. Ashwyn gazed deep in her eyes, ignoring the bratty tongue Ellisar was sticking out at her. ¡°All the rest is history.¡±

 163 - Eerie Quiet

    The chirps and warbles of early morning birdsong rang out all around her. Despite the heavy ache in her bones and the sleep deprivation that threatened to seal her eyelids shut, Oralia found the sounds of the forest soothing. Out here the birdsong was light and harmonious, capable of blending seamlessly into the background until it was barely noticeable at all. Not like at the capital, where the awful screeching of palace peacocks used to rouse her from her sleep every morning.

    The surrounding harmony, alas, did not apply to Rali. ¡°And another thing,¡± the dwarf said, throwing her forefinger into the air for what had to have been the twentieth time so far. ¡°Don¡¯t go waltzing into obvious danger, you hear? Stay alert. Keep your eyes and ears peeled for any bandits and if you come across any, you don¡¯t fight, you run.¡±

    ¡°Since when did you become my mother?¡± Oralia demanded.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you use that tone with me, young lady!¡±

    The pair were standing along the edge of their makeshift camp. Calling it a camp, in fact, seemed quite generous. The surrounding patch of forest was nothing more than a bit of semi-flat ground, free of widow-makers, with just enough room to throw the bedrolls down to catch a few hours of sleep. Their tents hadn¡¯t seen any use since leaving Fairguard. Ever since their near-encounter with bandits two days before, Oralia had kept her party ready to move at a moment¡¯s notice.

    Having traveled throughout the night, the group had stopped to make camp only that morning. To the dismay of the more weary members, Oralia didn¡¯t intend to linger much longer, either. The traveling party would be on the move again once everyone had had a chance to catch a few hours of sleep. In the meantime, while the second shift took their well-earned rest, there were chores to be done. More specifically, the chore Oralia particularly didn¡¯t want to do¨Clug fresh water from the nearby stream back to camp for boiling.

    A low humming alerted Oralia to the fact that Rali was still talking. The dwarf was in full lecture mode, listing off all manner of bizarre safety concerns. ¡°Additionally, you are forbidden from speaking to any bandits, joining any bandit gangs, frolicking with and or befriending them. Got all that, missy?¡±

    Oralia massaged her aching temples with a sigh. ¡°If you are this concerned for my welfare, you very well could take the waterskins down to the stream yourself.¡±

    ¡°Gods no. We drew lots fair and square and you lost. I¡¯m just doing my part to make sure you come back, is all. Sascha would be an absolute mess if anything happened to you.¡± Rali paused, jutting out her lower lip as if the very thought was simply too painful to consider. ¡°What would I do then, Oralia? Who would cook for me? We¡¯d all perish within the week of starvation.¡±

    ¡°A real tragedy,¡± Oralia agreed.

    ¡°Alright, I suppose you ought to be off if you intend to make it back by lunch. You remember the way, right?¡±

    ¡°If I pretend otherwise, will you hold my hand and lead me to the stream yourself?¡±

    A merciless grin spread across Rali¡¯s face. ¡°That¡¯s my big girl. Sassy, just like her momma. Of course you remember the way. Just straight on through the trees until you¡¯ve hit water. If you don¡¯t hit water, you¡¯ve gone too far. That, or you haven¡¯t gone far enough. I don¡¯t know. You¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    ¡°You truly missed your calling as a scout, Ralizak,¡± Oralia said as she started to turn away.

    ¡°Hold on, what about the necklace?¡± Rali¡¯s gaze moved upwards, stopping along the area of Oralia¡¯s collarbones. ¡°I could take my turn early if it would lighten your load a little.¡±

    ¡°I will be fine,¡± Oralia assured her for what was surely the twenty-first time that day.

    ¡°I know you will. Now, how about those hugs and kisses for the road, eh?¡±

    ¡°Goodbye.¡± Oralia threw the stack of empty waterskins over her shoulder and started for the trees. She almost made it all the way out of camp before a voice called after.

    ¡°Wait up, boss. I¡¯m coming too.¡±

    The third voice was like sandpaper to the inside of her ears. Grudgingly, Oralia glanced over her shoulder to find Kalihn scurrying after her. The elf was performing a sort of awkward, heaving scramble in order to keep pace. She carried a large iron pot, gripping the handle as though her life depended on it. Kalihn¡¯s knuckles were already white and drained of blood from the effort. To be fair, the blasted pot probably weighed nearly as much as she did.

    To be less fair, she¡¯d barely made it ten paces from the center camp.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Oralia did not bother to cloak the irritation in her tone.

    ¡°Orders from the cook,¡± Kalihn explained. ¡°Sascha said we needed extra water for boiling. Also, he mentioned that I shouldn¡¯t let you out of my sight for even a second.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s gaze swept past Kalihn over to Sascha¡¯s prep station. He already had a hole dug out for a fire, and was in the process of shaping the sides with stones. There was a heap of kindling and larger branches piled nearby, ready to light once the pit was finished. The low-burning fire would be ready and waiting to boil the water once Oralia and Kalihn returned from the stream. While Oralia appreciated his initiative, the same feeling did not apply to the dirty trick he¡¯d just played.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Sascha noticed her glaring and blew a kiss in her direction, quite pleased with his handiwork, no doubt. Rat bastard.

    Oralia vowed to find a creative means to get even with him for foisting Kalihn onto her without prior warning. While the elf meant well, Kalihn talked entirely too much for even the nicest soul to tolerate for more than a few hours at a time. Oralia was not a nice soul. Her tolerance, therefore, was even shorter. Barely holding on by a thread at this point.

    Sascha¡¯s clever move was something of a two-for-one scenario. Not only had he successfully relieved himself of Kalihn¡¯s help but, by sending the elf with Oralia, he was simultaneously ensuring his precious pot returned as well. Perhaps even with water in it. The fact that the errand served to annoy his fuckmate was simply an added benefit.

    Oralia¡¯s unamused stare returned to Kalihn. ¡°Will you be able to carry that the whole way?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m managing alright so far,¡± Kalihn said, seemingly unaware that she had her tongue sticking out of one side of her mouth from the sheer exertion of walking from the firepit to the edge of camp.

    ¡°Filled with water?¡± Oralia asked.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± was Kalihn¡¯s self-assured reply.

    On second thought, perhaps it was best not to give Kalihn false hope that Oralia would carry the pot the moment it proved too cumbersome. The orc turned and started off into the trees. ¡°Excellent. Glad to see you have it handled.¡±

    The surrounding forest was a mix of red alders, white oaks, and pine. Unlike the northernmost areas along the Iron Ridge, the ground covering here was thick and invasive. Even the areas of the forest untouched by sunlight were next to impossible to navigate with surefooted ease. Bramble and bracken intertwined across the woodland floor in a thick, tangled weave of thorny vines. The smell of wormwood and decay hung thick in the air as Oralia picked her way through the woods with painstaking care.

    Oralia¡¯s team had been on the move for almost two days straight. Their efforts, fortunately, were proving fruitful. Lingon and Dewpetal had backtracked several times to scout for any would-be pursuers. As of yet, there were no signs that they were being followed. Still, Oralia could not afford to be caught off guard in the middle of nowhere. She resolved to keep their pace for at least one night more, putting as much distance between them and the bandits as physically possible, before switching back to a less taxing speed.

    She and Kalihn were nearing the stream when Oralia froze in place, holding out her hand in a silent command for Kalihn to do the same. Overhead, the birdsong had stilled to a deathly quiet. Oralia inhaled through her nose, testing the air for any traces of intruders. She smelled the sharp, pungent smell of forest decay and the variety of damp fungi that thrived on its decomposing remains. There was water too, in the distance. The only other living creature of noticeable size she could detect happened to be the elf standing behind her.

    Kalihn skirted closer, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, still clinging to the pot as if it was her most prized possession. The elf has the sense to keep her voice low. ¡°What is it? You sense something?¡±

    ¡°I am not sure.¡±

    Something had caused the songbirds to go quiet. And while it very well could have been her and Kalihn¡¯s presence, Oralia knew better than to brazenly press forward without stopping to consider her options. She tilted her head in all directions, ears straining to catch any unfamiliar sounds. While the quiet was eerie, it also lacked any obvious signs of danger. She didn¡¯t smell anything out of place, either. The lack of evidence, however, failed to ease her growing nerves.

    Unfortunately, that left her with a difficult decision. The stream was the only nearby source of freshwater within the area. To try and locate another would not only come at the expense of time and energy, but had the potential to attract just as much attention. Especially with Kalihn in tow. Oralia took all of it into account before making her decision.

    ¡°We proceed with utmost caution.¡± Oralia picked her way through the undergrowth, mindful to avoid the patch of devil¡¯s club that blanketed the leafy ground in tall, thorny patches. ¡°Avoid speaking unless absolutely necessary. If you hear something, signal to me. Do not shout.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m perfectly fine waiting here if you want to go on ahead without me,¡± Kalihn ever-so-helpfully offered, going as far as to lift the pot in Oralia¡¯s direction expectantly.

    A firmly pressed brow was the only motivation required to get the reluctant elf moving again. Despite Kalihn¡¯s best efforts to creep quietly, Oralia winced every time she took a step. Eventually, it grew so unbearable, Oralia was forced to slow down and demonstrate how to walk without snapping every twig between them and the stream.

    While painfully slow, the pair managed to reach the water¡¯s edge without alerting the entire woodland area of their presence. The stream was not large, barely spanning a few yards across. The pebbled bottom could be seen from above and appeared no more than half a foot in depth. The water was clear, however, indicating a fast moving current¨Call good signs, when it came to collecting drinking water.

    Wordlessly, Oralia unslung the collection of empty waterskins from her shoulder and set them onto the bank. She could only fill one at a time, making the chore not only slow, but tedious as well. Exactly the reason why Rali had cheated at drawing lots in order to avoid being the one to carry it out.

    Kalihn was not nearly as confident as Oralia. She lingered paces from the bank, her sharp eyes darting back and forth between the dark treeforms around them. Finally, having either decided the coast was clear or simply grown weary of holding the pot, the elf edged forward onto the pebbled bank. She removed her shoes, rolled up her pant legs, and stepped brazenly into the icy water.

    While her commitment was commendable, Oralia could not help but raise her eyebrows at her highly questionable methods. She kept her voice low and purposely calm. ¡°That is a good way to attract leeches.¡±

    Kalihn looked up at her, face scrunched in confusion. ¡°Attract what now?¡±

    ¡°Lift your leg.¡±

    Kalihn did as instructed. As expected, there was already a small, black squiggly thing attached to her exposed skin. Before Oralia could explain that the leech was perfectly harmless, Kalihn dropped the pot with a squeal. Naturally, the heavy pot then landed squarely on her other foot.

    Oralia¡¯s whole body flinched at Kalihn¡¯s high-pitched scream. The boughs rustled overhead as every bird in the vicinity startled into the air. The sounds of rustling leaves and frantically flapping wings intermixed with the echo of Kalihn¡¯s scream as it bounced along the formerly still forest. It took effort to bite back her lashing tongue. There was no sense in adding yelling to the mix.

    Alas, if there were any bandits nearby, they definitely knew they were not the only ones in the area now.

 164 - You Finally Need Me

    Oralia waited with her breath drawn, ears straining to catch any telltale sign of the enemy before they came charging from the surrounding trees, weapons drawn, out for blood. She released her breath not long after, realizing that neglecting to fill her lungs served no other purpose but to make an already difficult situation substantially more so. The minutes slowly ticked past and¡­nothing.

    Nothing at all. No crunch of dried leaves as they disintegrated underfoot, or snap of twigs catching on passing cloaks, or blood-curdling war cries. Around them, the birds settled back into the boughs as the woodland grew eerily silent once more. Oralia couldn¡¯t believe it. Against all odds, somehow her and Kalihn¡¯s presence had gone unnoticed. For the moment, anyway. There wasn¡¯t any sense in sticking around longer than necessary to truly test the theory in full.

    Kalihn, meanwhile, was in agony. The elf had clambered out of the water and was now hopping silently on one foot, clutching the other as tears rolled down her ashen face. Sascha¡¯s pot sat half submerged in the fast-flowing stream, slowly sinking into the soft silt bed below.

    ¡°Gods that hurt like a b-word,¡± Kalihn said, her ragged voice barely over a hiss. ¡°And I know what you¡¯re going to say, boss. It was stupid, I know. But I didn¡¯t bloody mean to!¡±

    Oralia withheld her admonishment. There wasn¡¯t any point. Kalihn was right, of course. The events leading up to the scream had been undeniably stupid and avoidable, but what was done was done. There was no sense in making the elf¡¯s suffering worse. Intent on getting in-and-out as planned, Oralia returned to filling the waterskins. When finished, she grudgingly stepped into the stream¨Cboots on, naturally¨Cto complete Kalihn¡¯s task as well. Oralia¡¯s annoyance, no matter how great, would be nowhere near the wrath either of them would face if they returned to camp without Sascha¡¯s favorite cast iron pot in hand.

    Oralia plucked the pot from the stream and then clambered back out onto the pebbled bank. She waited for Kalihn¡¯s frantic hopping to die down before asking, ¡°Finished?¡±

    The elf sat on the edge of the embankment, face red and biting her lower lip. ¡°I think it¡¯s broken.¡±

    Oralia was unable to stop the words that rolled from her tongue unhindered. ¡°If you are referring to your pride, I am surprised it has held up this long.¡±

    ¡°No! My foot, obviously.¡±

    ¡°I do not think so.¡±

    Kalihn flopped back on the bank dramatically. ¡°You¡¯ll have to carry me.¡±

    ¡°Not happening.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t just leave me here like this, boss. I¡¯m vulnerable!¡±

    ¡°Be grateful I am carrying the pot on your behalf.¡± And again, not out of pity, but because Sascha would never speak to her again if she returned without it.

    With the weight of the waterskins arranged evenly across both shoulders, Oralia fitted the lid back over the iron pot and then started back towards camp. She walked without her companion, pausing every so often to stop and listen as Kalihn¡¯s dragging footsteps reluctantly followed. Oralia wouldn¡¯t leave her, of course, but hoped that each time Kalihn lost sight of her, it would motivate the elf to either pick up the pace or start relying on some of the tracking lessons Lingon had been hammering into her head.

    They were making good time, already halfway through the journey, when the crunch of a twig stopped Oralia in her tracks. She froze, realizing the sound was far too close to have come from Kalihn. Oralia listened as a third set of footsteps crept up from behind, not yet aware they¡¯d been found out. She drew air in through her nose, picking up hints of tobacco, old booze, and an overall lack of personal hygiene. Whoever was closing in on them was definitely not one of hers.

    What¡¯s worse, the stranger was between her and the blissfully unaware Kalihn.

    Kalihn¡¯s dragging footsteps were still moving in her direction. No doubt the stranger could hear them as well. Oralia didn¡¯t dare call out a warning. As of yet, the stranger didn¡¯t know they¡¯d been detected. Alerting them to this fact could force them into doing something rash. Oralia was confident she could handle a one-on-one fight. Said confidence went right out the window the moment there proved to be more than one bandit lurking nearby.

    She counted only one set of footsteps now¨CKalihn¡¯s. The stranger had gone still. Judging from their stench, Oralia could roughly pinpoint the creep¡¯s whereabouts. Unable to call out to Kalihn, Oralia reluctantly settled on another way of alerting her companion to the danger.

    She closed her eyes and steadied her breath, willing a silent prayer into the universe. Dear Sascha, forgive me.

    Dumping the water onto the ground, Oralia swung the pot in a series of fast, concentric circles to gain momentum, and then released, hurtling it high overhead. The cast iron vessel broke through the canopy, sailing higher and higher, before gravity brought it crashing back down. It plummeted, ricocheting off one tree to the next, snapping branches all the way down until, at last, slamming into the ground with a resounding thump!

    Oralia listened as, not one but three, additional bodies abandoned cover and raced through the brush to find the source of the commotion.

    ¡°Uh, boss?¡± Kalihn¡¯s voice rang out as her slogging footsteps faltered. ¡°Is that you?¡±

    ¡°Freeze, maggot!¡± a gruff voice shouted at her.

    To her credit, Kalihn did the sensible thing and ran. Mostly sensible. The screaming wasn¡¯t doing anything except marking in which direction she was fleeing, but, at the very least, she headed back in the direction of the stream and not towards camp. When discovered, it was of the utmost importance to lead the enemy away from the rest of your party. You could circle back again once having lost any and all pursuers. Oralia was relieved that Kalihn possessed some tactical sense.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Alas, her thoughts spoke too soon.

    Judging from Kalihn¡¯s obnoxious screaming, the elf had circled back around and, out of all the directions she could have possibly gone, was now sprinting in the one she was not supposed to be.

    Oralia ordinarily would have given chase, picking off the slower runners along the way, but the smell of musty tobacco still lingered¨Cindicating that at least one of the bandits had stayed back to deal with her. At the moment, neither of them moved, waiting for the other to betray their position.

    The stalemate stretched on for several moments before Oralia gave up waiting. She unslung the waterskins from around her neck and hung them in the nearest tree, intent on returning and fetching them when she was finished dispatching the bandit. Moving onto her toes, she stealthily picked her way between the trees, relying on her sense of smell to lead her to her quarry. Her opponent must have had a similar idea because several paces later, the bandit in question emerged from out of the brush in front of her.

    The scrawny orc jumped in surprise, his eyes darting to the sword hanging from Oralia¡¯s hip before hastily taking in the rest of her. While the bandit was roughly the same height as her, he was rather thin for an orc. One better suited for running as opposed to facing down bigger opponents¨Cwhich is why Oralia wasn¡¯t going to give him the chance. She rushed the scrawny bandit, drawing her sword mid-lunge, and swung at him.

    He leapt out of the way, yelping as Oralia¡¯s blade grazed along his ribs. The orc turned to run, caught his foot on an upturned tree root whilst doing so, and fell. In lieu of a swift getaway, the bandit found himself strewn facedown across the mossy forest floor, having nothing to show for his efforts except a badly twisted ankle. Oralia jumped the same moment the bandit flipped over. She landed with a foot planted on either side of him and brought the point of her blade down. It would be a clean run through. A quick ending, as far as untimely deaths went. Probably more than he deserved anyway.

    The scrawny orc¡¯s gray face went ashen white. He threw his hands out in a futile attempt to stop the inevitable. ¡°Please don¡¯t!¡±

    Oralia¡¯s blade jerked to a stop, a hair¡¯s breadth from piercing her target¡¯s chest.

    His eyes were clenched shut and he trembled, producing soft whimpers. The words caught in his throat, barely discernible even at such close proximity. ¡°I want to live.¡±

    He was older than Curly would have been, thin and scrappy, with eyes all the wrong color. But logic was suddenly powerless, unable to dispel the image of her own boy cowering beneath her, begging for his life as he watched his death unfold before his eyes, unable to stop it. Pain swelled in Oralia¡¯s throat, pulling tight like a noose across her airways. She choked, gasping for breath as her knees rebelled, buckling uselessly beneath her. She caught herself before she fell, unable to tear her eyes from the orc trembling beneath her.

    The name hurt to speak. ¡°Curly?¡±

    His eyes went wide, rimmed in white. His tusked mouth quivered open but the rampant drum of Oralia¡¯s heartbeat drowned out the words.

    No, no, no. This can¡¯t be. This isn¡¯t happening. Not here. Not now.

    She knew it wasn¡¯t real and yet, there was no convincing her eyes otherwise. It wasn¡¯t some scrawny bandit cowering before her but one of her own. The one she¡¯d lost. The one she was supposed to have kept safe. The one she¡¯d failed.

    ¡°Stop it!¡± Oralia roared. ¡°Whatever this is, stop it! You¡¯re not him.¡±

    The months of pent grief poured from the fractures in her heart, flooding her insides until the pressure gave way behind her eyes. The birdsong and soft rustling of the wind in the trees died away as her surroundings blurred. Time shifted and when Oralia looked around again, she found the red oaks and paper birch had been replaced with a sea of dark spruce. The scents of fresh dirt and rain danced on the breeze, transforming her stomach to stone.

    The noose around her neck cinched tighter when Oralia realized where her memory had taken her. She screwed her eyes shut, forcing the images back down. ¡°No, no, not here. Not again.¡±

    Oralia knew what happened next. She knew the moment she opened her eyes again she would relive the worst moment of her life. She¡¯d see him, propped against a tree, face drained of color. His once dark eyes now dull and lifeless. She would remember the touch of his cold skin against her own as she held him one final time, begging for a forgiveness that would never come. And then, when the others finally convinced her to let go, she would see his body lowered into the dirt and how those lifeless eyes gazed back up at her with that pleading expression.

    Why weren¡¯t you there? Why didn¡¯t you save me? Curly¡¯s unspoken words still haunted her each time she closed her eyes. You were supposed to protect me.

    Hot tears streamed down Oralia¡¯s face. She wasn¡¯t even cognizant of the words spilling from her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Grettie! Grettie, help me!¡±

    The shrill scream snapped Oralia from her trance. She opened her eyes to find the scrawny orc was desperately trying to claw his way out from under her. His wide eyes were fixed on the sword point still held inches from his chest cavity.

    ¡°Grettie!¡± he shouted.

    Oralia lurched forward, repinning him with her knees. She dropped her sword and went for his throat with her hands instead. Her fingers found the delicate spot tucked along the neckline just below the ear and squeezed. She blinked the hot tears from her eyes and steadied her breath, maintaining enough pressure to ensure that, while he wouldn¡¯t die, he wouldn¡¯t be able to scream anymore either. The orc wrapped his hands around her wrist, thrashing as he attempted to break her hold. His struggle was already weakening when Oralia heard someone emerge from the undergrowth behind her. The hairs on her arm stood on end as an icy chill stirred within her veins.

    Move! A surge of blistering heat burst from behind the same moment the pendant around her neck flared to life. The dark entity¡¯s silken voice rippled across her thoughts, snapping her from her stupor. Now, orc. Now!

    Oralia threw herself to the side and rolled beneath an overgrown patch of bracken. She flipped over, scuttling backwards on her hands and knees as a blaze of fire erupted across the woodland floor where she had been only a split second before. Screams lit the air as the yellow and orange flames flared brighter, reaching all the way up to the lower boughs before the fire snuffed out, filling the air with black smoke and the stench of singed flesh. The orc¡¯s screams faded as his writhing, black and charred body fell still.

    ¡°What the fuck, Hank? Why¡¯d you get in the way like that?¡± A small, haggard looking woman slunk out from between the trees. Her shrewd eyes searched for wherever Oralia had gone before settling on the overgrown bracken. Grettie¡¯s mouth pulled into a snaggle toothed smile. ¡°If you make me do this the hard way, you¡¯re gonna end up like ol¡¯ Hank here. Why don¡¯t you come out nice and easy like, and we talk this through like civilized folk?¡±

    Amongst the myriad of voices screaming within Oralia¡¯s head, a new one added itself to the mix. What¡¯s this? Trapped with a witch, alone and without backup? Looks like you finally need me. Darkness stirred to life within her veins as the entity cackled with delight. Do as I say, orc, and we may both make this out alive.

 165 - Unhand My D*****

    The sun was high overhead when Rasp awoke from the strangest dream. Birds sang, nested amongst the village ruins, their warbled chirps and whistles amplified by the surrounding stone. The cool air smelled of wet clay and moss. For the first time in months, Rasp felt rested. His back no longer ached, his knees weren¡¯t stiff and swollen, and the constant heavy cloud that hung in the back of his skull had dispersed, leaving his mind unusually clear.

    And Rasp wanted none of it.

    He closed his eyes and rolled over, willing his waking mind to shut the fuck up and go back to sleep. His dreams had been some of the best he¡¯d ever had. Filled with all the foods he loved, the people he tolerated, and even a few he might have loved more than food. Faris had been there. As had Mother. And not a single person asked him to do anything. It was the closest to paradise Rasp had ever come and he was determined to drift back asleep and enjoy it for as long as he could.

    The low-speaking voices conversing not far from him were making the return to sleep more difficult than it should have been. Probably would have helped had he simply ignored them, but such was the nature of whispers. Any conversation you weren¡¯t meant to hear was always the most difficult not to listen to. Rasp tilted his head, noting how the surrounding walls magnified even the faintest murmur.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go anywhere near that settlement.¡± Hop¡¯s voice was low and laden with both worry and exhaustion¨Cthe latter on account of spending the night in a haunted village, most likely. His night had not been nearly as restful as Rasp¡¯s apparently. ¡°Especially if you¡¯re leaving us again.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t scout the tower from the ground,¡± Whisper replied. ¡°And, unless you can shift into a body with wings, I can¡¯t take you with me either. If you¡¯re so concerned about going head-to-head with soldiers then stay here.¡±

    ¡°In a haunted village? With resistance thugs on our tail?¡±

    ¡°I will only be gone for a few hours.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just like yesterday. Look how well that turned out!¡±

    ¡°I fail to see the issue.¡± Unlike Hop, Whisper kept their voice calm. Almost unnaturally so. ¡°You were ambushed and the little bird utilized his training¨Cyour training, specifically¨Cto handle the situation. He was successful and the both of you walked away unscathed.¡±

    ¡°He roasted two people alive in their armor.¡±

    ¡°And you think me being there would have changed that?¡± Whisper countered. ¡°Your attackers would have died regardless. In a different manner, granted, but dead nonetheless. All of them.¡±

    Whisper was planning another scouting mission to the nearby realm settlement, from the sounds of it. Hop, meanwhile, seemed conflicted between tagging along or staying back and spending the rest of the day in the haunted village¨Cneither option appealed to him, judging from his tone. Rasp¡¯s hopes of sleeping the rest of the afternoon away disintegrated like sandcastles amongst the rising tide. The sad fact of the matter was, the sooner he got up and moving, the sooner the recurrent nightmare that had become his everyday life could get better.

    That¡¯s what he told himself, anyway, as the alternative wasn¡¯t an option he wanted to consider.

    With a yawn, Rasp stretched his arms over his head and willed life into each toe. Sitting up had never felt so easy. ¡°I vote we go with Whisper to the settlement.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡± Hop¡¯s tone changed from surprised to accusatory without missing a beat. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Whisper¡¯s egg might be there, right?¡±

    The fae¡¯s quills rattled in irritation. ¡°Not an egg.¡±

    Rasp rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he spoke, unable to conceal the devious smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. ¡°I want to be nearby in case they find it. One step closer to the egg is one step closer to getting rid of some of my magic. It¡¯s only logical.¡±

    The faun disagreed with a snort. ¡°I don¡¯t think that word applies to this situation.¡±

    ¡°It would be useful to have a second pair of eyes on the ground,¡± Whisper admitted, speaking slowly, as if actually considering Rasp¡¯s proposition. ¡°The two of you could scout the area from the outside while I do so from within.¡±

    Hop, naturally had objections. A whole list of them. What¡¯s worse, his objections were grounded in actual logic. ¡°You want a blind elemental and a bumbling artificer, with no combat experience whatsoever, to scout an active realm military settlement for you? Do I have that right?¡±

    ¡°You forgot magically unstable,¡± Rasp said helpfully. He steepled his hands beneath his chin, flashing a smile. ¡°A blind, magically unstable elemental, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Whisper, this is the plot to a tragic comedy. Not a feasible plan.¡±

    Whisper was smiling now too. Rasp could hear it in the way the fae¡¯s singsong voice rose in pitch. ¡°Precisely. It will be easier to snoop around the inside of the tower if the soldiers are adequately distracted.¡±

    It was rare for Rasp and Whisper to gang up on Hop together. Usually one of them, alone, was all that was necessary to persuade the faun into doing things ¡®the stupidest way possible¡¯. ¡°Distraction is Hop¡¯s middle name,¡± Rasp said. ¡°Hopalong Distraction Humphrey.¡±

    Hop and Whisper were standing not far from Rasp. He could just barely make out their shadowy forms¨Cone tall and looming, the other short and spiky¨Chighlighted against the sunshine filtering down from the gaps in the rustling canopy overhead. Hop¡¯s giant form shifted to face Rasp head-on, raising his voice in objection. ¡°What happened to being depressed about yesterday? Shouldn¡¯t you be a moping puddle of self-misery right now?¡±

    ¡°That is odd, isn¡¯t it?¡± Rasp scratched at his armpit as he considered why this might be. Hop was right. Accidental acts of magically-induced carnage usually took days, sometimes weeks, to get over. But ever since waking up, it was as if all his problems had been cut loose. Rasp felt set free from the iron iron chains that¡¯d kept him grounded in misery.

    ¡°Blame the harmony stone,¡± he said at last, having come up with no other logical answer. ¡°I think it might have healed more than just my broken body, but my conscience too.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how harmony stones work.¡±

    ¡°Not for you, apparently, Mister Grumpy Pants.¡±

    And with that, Hop¡¯s metaphorical backbone caved, giving in to the inevitable. Rasp could tell by the wearisome sigh that issued from the large faun as his reluctant steps dragged off in the opposite direction. ¡°Why do I even try?¡±

    ¡°We wonder the same thing,¡± Whisper called after him.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Not me,¡± Rasp said. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering where breakfast is.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s past noon, little bird.¡±

    ¡°Fine, lunch then. Feed me. I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately for me, I am your mentor, not your parent. Therefore, not my problem.¡±

    Rasp bit back his sarcastic reply, recalling how his actual parent had disappeared earlier that morning. He tilted his head this way and that, listening to the sounds of the forest. He heard the harsh screech of blue jays, the raspy chatter of magpies, and a number of songbirds. It was the one missing, however, that gave him pause. ¡°Speaking of which, is Father back yet? He went to check on something earlier. Said it was important.¡±

    Whisper was as helpful as always. ¡°Also not my problem.¡±

    #

    Rasp parted the gnarled branches that scratched at his unprotected face as he followed Hop¡¯s blurry shape through the thick underbrush. After two hours of travel, they¡¯d reached the outskirts of the old military settlement. The overgrown forest had been cut back along the wall, allowing a ten yard clearing that kept intruders from catching the settlement by surprise. A wall couldn¡¯t keep Whisper out, of course. Shifting into bird form, the fae had flown over the top to scout the inside, leaving Hop and Rasp to check the perimeter for weaknesses.

    Well, Hop got to check the perimeter. Rasp was there for¡­backup? Moral support? Delightful running commentary? His options were somewhat limited considering his vision couldn¡¯t pick up anything beyond a sea of hazy green and black shadows.

    While he may have been the one to insist on tagging along to the settlement, Rasp hadn¡¯t planned on participating in the scouting part. To his dismay, Hop insisted otherwise. Apparently Rasp could no longer be trusted to sit and watch the bags after what happened last time. Which was totally unfair, considering he couldn¡¯t possibly cause mayhem if there wasn¡¯t a city within walking distance. What was he going to do? Terrorize the trees?

    What a ridiculous idea, Rasp thought. He¡¯d learned his lesson after that cedar nearly crushed him a few weeks back. Since then, he¡¯d vowed to only terrorize things incapable of rendering him as flat as a pancake.

    Hop¡¯s whispered voice drew Rasp from his thoughts. ¡°Aside from the main gate, there appears to be two smaller points of access.¡± The faun had gotten into the habit of narrating their surroundings. The information was helpful, but unnecessary. As the settlement wall was comprised of stone, Rasp could bring it down with a flick of his hand if he wanted. Might defeat the purpose of being stealthy, though.

    Hop carried on, unaware of the poor ideas filtering through Rasp¡¯s head. ¡°Once it gets dark, it wouldn¡¯t take much to sneak across the clearing and have Whisper open one of the smaller gates from the inside.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Rasp made the mistake of voicing his inner thoughts aloud. ¡°I guess that would make more sense than blasting the wall down.¡±

    ¡°You...you weren¡¯t seriously thinking of doing that, were you?¡±

    ¡°What? No, of course not. That¡¯d be reckless.¡±

    Hop stopped dead in his tracks. Rasp only noticed because he slammed into the back of the now unmoving faun, nearly toppling the both of them. A hiss from Hop kept Rasp from cursing him to the furthest reaches of the realm and back. The pair remained stock still as the grueling seconds trickled past. Rasp strained his ears, realizing the forest had grown strangely quiet. In the distance, he heard a squirrel chattering its warning call.

    Rasp was careful to keep his voice low, barely above a whisper. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell me we¡¯re being followed again.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s something else. An animal, I think.¡± By the way Hop¡¯s head raised higher, Rasp suspected he was testing the air. ¡°There are other smells too, but I can¡¯t pin them down. Whatever it is, it¡¯s making quite the commotion.¡±

    ¡°Does this mysterious creature smell hungry?¡±

    ¡°How would I know that, Rasp?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But we did just leave two days¡¯ worth of corn cake rations next to a tethered mule alone in the forest.¡± Better the mule than him, but still, Bonecrusher didn¡¯t deserve that sort of ending.

    ¡°Wait, I hear something else.¡± Hop reached back and seized Rasp by the shirt, hauling him forward until they were standing alongside one another¨Cas if, for some reason, moving an entire two steps closer would increase Rasp¡¯s ability to hear. ¡°That¡¯s a raven, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Rasp closed his eyes and listened, focusing on the call that echoed between the trees. ¡°...That¡¯s not Father.¡±

    Hop¡¯s grip on the front of Rasp¡¯s shirt lessened. ¡°Just a regular raven then?¡±

    ¡°No, I just don¡¯t recognize their voice, is all. She¡¯s shouting ¡®quick, quick, they¡¯re gaining on us¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Are you fucking with me again?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s eyes snapped back open as he latched onto Hop¡¯s arm, preparing his weary legs for the torture they were about to endure. ¡°Afraid not, Hoppy Boy. Fancy a run? You¡¯re going to have to get us closer.¡±

    ¡°Or we could not do that. Stick to the plan. Stay hidden.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re either getting us there on foot, or I¡¯m lifting us up with the wind again. Your choice.¡±

    ¡°Dear gods, no.¡± Hop stifled a whimper as he surged forward through the underbrush, dragging Rasp with him. ¡°For the record, in case I don¡¯t live long enough to tell you so afterwards, this is a terrible idea.¡±

    ¡°You say that about all my ideas.¡±

    Instead of backtracking the way they came, Hop zigged and zagged a winding path through the trees, attempting to keep downwind from the commotion. Blurred black and green tree forms whizzed past at a dizzying rate. Rasp clung to his guide, lifting his feet higher than usual to keep from catching on every root and snag between them and the growing clamor. He was starting to suspect Hop had intentionally led them in the opposite direction when the faun ground to a halt, dragging Rasp down out of sight with him.

    They were tucked behind a highbush cranberry shrub from the smell of it. Between the screech of the unfamiliar raven and the muffled shouts and roars, Rasp couldn¡¯t make heads nor tails of what was taking place. He squeezed Hop¡¯s arm, reminding him that not everyone present had the gift of sight. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s thugs from yesterday,¡± Hop managed between pants for air. ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve cornered a bear.¡±

    Rasp suddenly understood why they were hiding. He repeated Hop¡¯s words on the off chance he¡¯d heard wrong, somewhat hopeful that he had. ¡°A bear?¡±

    ¡°The biggest one I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    What was a talking raven doing with a bear? Just as Rasp was beginning to question whether or not he was still dreaming, Hop sucked a breath through his teeth and offered the final piece to the puzzle. ¡°There¡¯s a faun, too. I can¡¯t tell if the thugs are trying to help him or fight him.¡±

    ¡°A faun?¡± Rasp¡¯s heart nearly leapt into the back of his throat. He gripped Hop¡¯s arm tighter. ¡°Hooves? Horns? Furry legs?¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to describe a particular faun or the species in general?¡±

    Shit. Rasp realized he had no idea what Faris actually looked like. ¡°Short, but strong. Smells like cherry tobacco? Has a punchable face!¡± Fuck, this was harder than he thought. ¡°A beard, maybe?¡±

    ¡°Albino?¡± Hop offered.

    He felt suddenly stupid for forgetting that detail. To be fair, Rasp had only ever brought it up when he was in the mood for an ass kicking. The moment of shame was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. A mix of dread and excitement rose up in its stead. Rasp gathered his feet beneath him, heart pounding as his thoughts raced like a runaway stallion. It couldn¡¯t be, could it? There was no rhyme or reason for Faris to be all the way out here.

    Bear be damned, Rasp was about to find out. ¡°Alright, give me a quick rundown of the setup. Where are the baddies at?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re positioned at twelve, three, and seven.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck does that mean?¡±

    ¡°Like the number positions on a clock face?¡±

    ¡°Why do you assume I know what a clock looks like?¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods!¡± It was Hop¡¯s turn to seize Rasp by the arm, crushing the muscled flesh beneath his iron grip. ¡°The bear just took one of the thug¡¯s down! It ripped open their neck and, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, there¡¯s blood everywhere!¡±

    There wasn¡¯t time for a strategy. Tugging his arm free, Rasp jumped upright and raced headlong through the cranberry bush, ignoring the way the branches whipped across his unprotected face. Magic pooled in his hands as an unusual sense of calm flooded his veins. His heartbeat slowed, thrumming faintly within his ears, as the sounds of the scuffle faded into the background. Rasp didn¡¯t have to close his eyes this time. His phantom vision slipped soundlessly into place, overlaying his muddled surroundings with the magical signatures of his enemies.

    Rasp¡¯s foot caught on a tree root and he came hurtling out of the underbrush spinning, but still on his feet. His war cry roared across the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, with the full force of a thunderclap. ¡°Unhand my Dingle!¡±

 166 - The Bear, The Witch, And The Audacity Of This BFF

    Rasp¡¯s surroundings were a shifting field of dark gray and green shadows. Three magical auras glowed against the gloom, shining like beacons in the night. The light pouring from the witches highlighted the last of the spindly poplars obstructing Rasp¡¯s path. He weaved between the trees, wincing each time a wayward branch snagged a leg or arm as he hurtled past. Rasp cleared the last of the trees and burst through the underbrush, charging out across the makeshift battlefield.

    The closest magical aura also happened to be the largest. Pale green and shimmering, the aura was unnaturally big, nearly the size of a bear. Cursing under his breath, Rasp altered his breakneck course to go around it, realizing that the reason it was the size of a bear was because it was a bear. He¡¯d never considered what happened to a witch¡¯s power when devoured by a large predator. As the beast itself was now glowing a lovely shade of mint green, Rasp had the displeasure of knowing both flesh and magic were being consumed at an equal rate.

    Fuck that. He hadn¡¯t survived four months without his best friend just to wind up being slowly digested in the lower intestines of an apex predator.

    Fortunately the bear was too preoccupied with its feast to pay any mind to the scrawny-looking witch hurtling past. Successfully skirting the carnage, Rasp set his sights on the two remaining witches. The pair were clustered together¨Cone aura glowing dull red and the other silver¨Ccaught in a struggle with a third, non-magical shadow. Rasp recalled the unfortunate events that took place the night of the Hanover City Harvest Festival. More specifically, Whisper¡¯s roundabout explanation regarding the color of one¡¯s magic and how it correlated with their abilities. Alas, as with most of his learning, the lesson had gone in one ear and out the other. With enough time and concentration, Rasp might have been able to work it out on his own but, mere paces between him and his quarry, he found himself regrettably short of both.

    To the seventh realm of chaos with it! He¡¯d never been one for strategic plans anyway. Seemed a little late to start now. Phantom tendrils of yellow magic lifted from Rasp¡¯s hands as his feet pounded against the mossy woodland floor, closing the gap. ¡°You better fucking run if you know what¡¯s good for you!¡±

    In hindsight, he should have waited until after he¡¯d reached the enemy before engaging in shit-talk. A wave of red magic tore across the ground towards him. The dirt split open, throwing a shimmering wall of rock and stone skyward. Rasp flung his hands out in front of his face, pushing back against the onslaught.

    Well shit. Red aura meant earth elemental¨Che remembered now. Would have been a lot more helpful had he recalled that nifty fact before getting hammered in the face with a volley of razor-edged shrapnel. Rasp kept his arms held aloft, struggling to keep the onslaught of projectiles at bay while he considered his next move, all while trying to ignore the trickle of warm blood oozing down the side of his battered face.

    Preoccupied with the airborne assault, he failed to register the ground rumbling beneath his feet until it was too late. The earth tore open as shafts of rock formations shot up around him on all sides. The formations curled and twisted together, forming a makeshift cage.

    Amongst the deafening roar of grinding, shifting stone, Rasp heard Faris call out, his voice laden with terror. ¡°Rasp?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming, Dingle!¡±

    There was a notable pause. ¡°Are you though? Because, no offense, but it looks like you just stumbled right into a trap.¡±

    ¡°Oh shut up, Faris! It¡¯s a rescue-in-progress, alright?¡± Un-fucking-believable. Reunited all of thirty seconds and, already, Faris was criticizing his every move.

    Gods, I missed you.

    The shifting stone walls wove tighter together, closing in on him. Rasp swallowed back his growing trepidation and focused inwards. He pressed the flat of his hands together and channeled power between his palms. He held it, willing it stronger, stronger, stronger. He released just as the final glimpse of daylight disappeared above him. Tendrils of yellow magic surged forth, burrowing deep into the rock, transforming the glowing red to orange. The earth elementalist¡¯s magic fought back, resisting Rasp¡¯s takeover.

    In the end, the greater power proved victorious and the surrounding weave of magic shifted in color from orange to yellow. A smirk pulled at Rasp¡¯s mouth as he spread his fingers wide and then snapped them shut. His magic responded, splitting his makeshift cage into a crumbling landslide of rock and debris.

    Rasp stepped free of the cloud of dust, wiping the stray particles from his eyes, just in time to have another spray of shrapnel slam into him. He deflected, hurtling the flurry of projectiles back at his opponent¨Cmaking sure to throw it twice as hard. His pride hurt worse than his smarting face, fortunately.

    ¡°Stop. Making. Me.¡± He accentuated each word with another volley of loose rock and rubble. ¡°Look. Bad!¡±

    As it turned out, throwing volatile spells between dramatic pauses proved both tedious and labor intensive. Weary of his own antics, Rasp ditched the separate attacks and settled for a single, concentrated wave of earth and stone. He heaved it before him, finishing his sentence with a scream, ¡°In front of Faris!¡±

    The yellow wave thundered across the upturned battlefield, felling entire trees in its wake of destruction. Ears still ringing, Rasp was caught by surprise when someone¡¯s back pressed against his own. ¡°It¡¯s not fair to blame your poor performance on the other witch, Dinglehead.¡±

    His heart leapt back into his throat with a squeak.

    Faris carried on unaffected. ¡°You didn¡¯t even check to see where I was before sending that last wave of rock, by the way. I could have been crushed.¡±

    The urge to whip around and hug the daylights out of Faris was almost immediately replaced with the need to throttle him first. Alas, Rasp could do neither. A third volley of rock reminded him that they were still caught on an active battlefield and would, therefore, have to save the kissing and making up for later. ¡°I mean this in the nicest way,¡± Rasp grunted, forced to counter his opponent¡¯s strike once more, ¡°but it¡¯s probably not the best idea to stand next to me right now.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Oh, believe me, I¡¯m aware.¡± Positioned back-to-back, Rasp felt Faris flinch when the two magics collided together with a thunderous crack. ¡°Kinda short of options at the moment, though.¡±

    ¡°Nah, you just missed me.¡±

    ¡°Do you think we could do this after you¡¯ve done something about the witch attacking us?¡±

    Rasp lifted his hands, summoning a wall of earth and stone to shield them against the magical onslaught coming from across the battle-torn field. Temporarily sheltered, he whirled around, placing his hands at his hips. ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing?¡±

    ¡°Drawing the fight out for dramatic effect?¡± Faris replied. ¡°I mean come on. You got carried off by a dragon last I saw you. Surely Whisper taught you something in all the months you¡¯ve been away.¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t know which accusation hurt worse. The fact that he¡¯d just been accused of being needlessly dramatic or that Faris considered his current strategy weak.

    ¡°Case in point, right now, for instance,¡± the faun continued, unnaturally calm for someone currently insulting the very witch keeping him alive. ¡°You just stopped mid-fight to argue with me. Coming across awfully dramatic to me, Dinglehead.¡±

    The audacity!

    Rolling his head back with a groan, Rasp spread his feet shoulder-width apart and bent his knees. He closed his eyes and dug deep, searching his surroundings for an element capable of giving him the advantage he sorely needed. The breeze responded, creaking the timber boughs overhead as it whistled past. He reached out and harnessed its power, feeling the surge of fresh magic light a fire within his battered bones.

    No anger, he reminded himself, remembering how spectacularly his powers had blown up in his face the last time he¡¯d lost his temper out of frustration. A few deep breaths ensured his heartbeat was still steadily thumping along at a calm pace. You¡¯re cool. You¡¯re calm. No dark entities stirring to life and seizing control this time.

    Rasp¡¯s voice reflected his eerie state of calm. ¡°You want to see dramatic, Dingle?¡±

    ¡°Did you hear a single word I said? I asked you to stop being so dramatic. Not to double down on it!¡±

    A devilish smile split across Rasp¡¯s bloodied face. With a wave of his hand, he collapsed the makeshift wall sheltering them from the enemy. His eyes swept across the sea of shifting shadows in search of the telltale glow of his opponent¡¯s magical signature. Rasp found it, partially obscured by the surrounding trees. The earth elemental was stealthily picking his way around to catch them from the flank unaware.

    Rasp raised his hands high overhead and then brought them down with a dramatic flourish, sending a raging torrent of wind and rock across the battle-torn ground. Leaves, dirt, and twigs hurtled past as the torrent swept the witch off the ground and flung him high over the treetops. The red blip was lost to sight almost immediately after. From the witch¡¯s fading screams, Rasp assumed his magic had done as he¡¯d intended.

    He straightened his posture, beaming with pride. ¡°How was that?¡±

    ¡°Surprisingly effective, actually. Good job not killing us.¡±

    Unfortunately, dramatic shows of power came at an equally dramatic price. Rasp meant to take a step in Faris¡¯s direction, but staggered instead. Hot bile flooded his mouth as the contents of his stomach attempted to upend themselves in a single heave. Rasp swallowed, fighting to keep his breakfast down as his aura vision faded in and out. Unable to sustain the connection, Rasp¡¯s surroundings grew indistinguishable once more. While his phantom vision may have tapped out, his magic sensitivity was still holding on by a thread. The buzz rippling across his skin warned him there was still at least one, maybe two, additional sources of magic nearby.

    This is what you get for showing off, the stupid voice in his head reminded him. Now get your head back in the game and finish the job.

    Fuck, this was going to suck.

    ¡°Alright, Dingle,¡± Rasp panted, desperately searching the makeshift battlefield for an opponent he couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Where¡¯s the other witch?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just now wondering that?¡±

    ¡°Do you have to turn everything into a fight? Yes. Tell me where the other witch is!¡±

    Faris¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°You must be something real special, you know. Are all witches this polite? Patiently waiting their turn to have a go at you one on one?¡±

    Alright, admittedly, Faris had a point. Rasp supposed it was a little strange the pair of resistance thugs hadn¡¯t teamed up on him together. The reason for which, he realized, was painfully obvious. ¡°You fuck head. You already took care of the second witch, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I might have hobbled him a wee bit. He went slinking off into the trees last I saw.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t kill him?¡±

    ¡°Look, not all of us are comfortable with spilling blood so easily, alright? If it''s any consolation, I doubt he¡¯s getting very far.¡±

    ¡°Gods dammit, Dingle. You just earned us more work, you know that, right? Now we¡¯ve got to go track the fucker down before he comes back with more friends.¡± While it ranked high on the list of shit to do, Rasp had a few other priorities to sort out first. Quick as a flash, he spun around, squishing Faris¡¯s face between his hands. ¡°Your delightfully chubby cheeks,¡± he gasped, still prodding the unamused faun¡¯s scruffy face. ¡°They¡¯re gone! You¡¯re nothing but skin and bone!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, speaking of which¨C¡±

    Faris¡¯s fist struck him in the gut with the force of a sledgehammer. All of the air left Rasp¡¯s body in a single, pained exhale. His stomach seized beyond his control, sending ripples of agony coursing through the rest of his body. Stunned, Rasp slowly sank towards the ground with a gurgled wheeze.

    ¡°¨Cthat¡¯s for making me hunt your sorry ass down for months on end without any word from you at all! Would it have killed you to send a mucking raven now and then, huh? The only reason I managed to find you was the senseless trail of destruction you left in your wake.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s legs gave out and he struck the upturned ground, gasping feebly for breath. He managed three hoarse words. ¡°...Love...you...too.¡±

    ¡°Damn right, you¡¯re sorry! Four months, Rasp! Four months of endless running with every enemy on the entire continent hot on my trail.¡±

    Unable to form proper sentences, Rasp rested his head against the upturned dirt, all the while wondering what sort of reward was in store for having just saved the ungrateful faun¡¯s life. While he was hoping for a hug, he wouldn¡¯t say no to a couple of cold compresses and a stiff drink.

    A bone-rattling snarl cut the rest of Faris¡¯s rantings short. Rasp¡¯s body went rigid, suddenly remembering he¡¯d forgotten all about the damn bear. ¡°Shit!¡± He staggered to his feet, angling his hands in the direction of the oncoming beast. ¡°Get behind me, Dingle! I¡¯ll take care of the bear.¡±

 167 - An Enthusiastic Lack Of Clothing

    Crackling hot magic pooled into Rasp¡¯s hands so quickly it made his head spin. His stomach lurched as he doubled over, fighting the acidic heaves of vomit clawing its way up his throat. Fuck. He clenched his teeth, struggling to remain standing as wave after wave of stomach-curdling nausea flooded his insides. Sweat beaded down his forehead as the blistering heat spread across his skin like wildfire.

    His incessant need to overreact had truly cost him this time. He was overspent, having depleted nearly all of his magic before the fight was even half over. Weak or not, he had to finish the bear before it finished them.

    Rasp raised his trembling left hand, eyes straining to pick out the bear¡¯s blurry form from the rest of his muddled surroundings. The beast¡¯s shaggy outline drew closer, huffing and snorting as it ambled towards him. Rasp opened his mouth to scream, but a swell of sour bile crested over the top of his throat and swamped his tongue, turning his hollering into sputtered gagging.

    ¡°Get¡­back!¡± he managed, angling his open hand at his slowly advancing quarry. The last of his magic swelled within his palm in anticipation for the final blow. Gods, he hoped this worked. He had one last good push in him before his powers were spent. Timing it just right required both patience and precision¨Cattributes that weren¡¯t exactly his forte.

    Hold it, hold, hold it, he told himself as the lumbering shape neared. Miss now and you¡¯re royally screwed.

    Power built within his hand until it was too hot to hold any longer. The magic pulled at his flesh like an unruly dog on a leash, begging to be let go.

    ¡°Rasp, wait!¡±

    Faris¡¯s warning sounded a split second before something slammed into the back of Rasp¡¯s head. He lost his footing, spinning to catch himself as the magic shot from his hand, sending a torrent of howling wind hurtling in the wrong direction. The gale thundered across the battlefield, snapping several spindly trees from their roots as it tore a path through the forest.

    The aftermath of his blunder probably would have been a lot louder had it not been for the raven currently attacking the back of Rasp¡¯s head. It was difficult to hear much of anything over its ear-piercing shrieks. The bird was a furious flurry of feathers and fast beating wings as it stabbed at the back of his neck.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Rasp stumbled forwards, throwing his arms over his head to shield his face from the raven¡¯s razor sharp talons.

    The raven continued its noisy assault, yanking at his hair as its large wings beat him into submission.

    ¡°Who the fuck are you calling a spoiled mountain brat?¡± Rasp¡¯s desperate attempts to fight the raven off had the opposite effect. Instead of proving victorious over his smaller, albeit vicious assailant, he ended up falling over himself in an undignified pile of flailing arms and legs. ¡°Get off me, stupid bird! I don¡¯t even know you! You¡¯ve got the wrong Stoneclaw!¡±

    Croak! Father¡¯s call rang out as he swooped down from the treetops to assist. The feathery snap of Father¡¯s powerful wings stirred the air as he battered the other raven into a forced retreat. Having successfully warded off the other bird, Father settled onto the upturned rubble with a hiss. He waddled over and delivered Rasp¡¯s elbow an admonishing peck for losing to a bird a fifth his size.

    ¡°I take back everything nice I said about you this morning,¡± Rasp moaned. He laid still, refusing to uncover his head in the event the fighting was just getting started. ¡°Why is Miss Angry Feathers over there attacking me and not the bear?¡±

    Father gargled his reply.

    ¡°She¡¯s family?¡± Rasp lifted his head, confused. ¡°Wait, the bear or the raven?¡±

    Unfortunately, Rasp wasn¡¯t able to get anything further before Father and the mystery raven turned on one another. If nothing else, it at least explained the newcomer¡¯s tendency for unbridled violence. The rancorous screaming match taking place certainly felt like the family reunions Rasp had grown up with.

    He eased into a sitting position with a moan, running his fingers through his tangled hair. Parts of his scalp were wet and sticky with blood, but aside from a little pain, the damage didn¡¯t seem detrimental. If anything, the pair¡¯s obnoxious croaking was doing more damage than the attack had. Rasp plugged his ears, trying to lessen the verbal assault hammering away at the inside of his aching skull. Each harsh croak felt like a red hot poker being driven further into his brain.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake,¡± he said, ¡°use your inside voices, please!¡±

    To Rasp¡¯s surprise, the ravens listened. They were still too preoccupied with slinging insults at one another to address his mounting questions, but at least they were doing it at a more tolerable level now.

    Faris crouched down beside him. ¡°That was rough to watch. You alright?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Rasp¡¯s hands dropped uselessly to his sides. ¡°I¡¯m so confused right now. I don¡¯t know who the fuck that raven is, but they seem to know me. Father¡¯s not being any help and nobody seems concerned about the fucking bear!¡±

    ¡°The bear¡¯s on our side, actually.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Since when? You hate bears!¡±

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ll explain everything, I promise. Just give me a minute here. Lots of fires to put out.¡± The direction of Faris¡¯s voice changed, as did the volume. ¡°Will you please go change already? Over there in the bushes out of sight, yeah? Just like we practiced? And for muck¡¯s sake, do something about your face before you come back over. Dinglehead here may not be able to see it, but I can. It¡¯s disgusting.¡±

    Rasp could just barely make out the bear¡¯s hazy shape across from him. It halted, stomping its front foot with a powerful thud.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s natural,¡± Faris replied. ¡°So is shitting, and you don¡¯t see me pulling up a chair to watch that either.¡±

    The beast produced a high-pitched, wavering grumble as it turned and lumbered away.

    ¡°Dingle, I¡­¡± Rasp¡¯s voice trailed, uncertain of whether or not he¡¯d truly lost his mind. ¡°I think that bear just called you an asshole.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be the first time,¡± Faris sighed. ¡°She¡¯s almost as bad as you.¡±

    ¡°She?¡± Rasp angled his hands back in the direction of the retreating bear. Naturally, the one time he truly needed his powers to volley someone over the trees, it wasn¡¯t there for him. Stupid magic.

    Faris slapped Rasp¡¯s hands back down as he eased into the dirt beside him. ¡°Cut it out. You¡¯re going to get Dagmar all worked up again.¡± Fortunately, he answered Rasp¡¯s next question before he was even given the chance to ask it. ¡°Dagmar¡¯s the other raven. Your mother¡¯s sister, I think? Anyway, she hates your dad¡¯s guts.¡±

    The picture was starting to grow a little clearer. Not enough to make out any of the important details, but there was some shape to it now. Unfortunately for Rasp it was a shape he¡¯d never encountered and was, therefore, just as lost if not more than before. ¡°How do you know all this? Last I checked, you can¡¯t talk to ravens.¡±

    ¡°The bear told me.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Exhausted both mentally and physically, Rasp gave up trying to make the nonsensical pieces fit nicely together. There was only one real explanation for what was taking place. He slumped against Faris like a boneless bag of meat and ran his dirty fingers down the faun¡¯s scruffy face, knowing he had to enjoy the dream for as long as he could before he woke up again.

    ¡°Again with the face touching?¡± Faris said. ¡°Why can¡¯t you just shake my hand and say thank you like a normal person?¡±

    ¡°Psh, you wouldn¡¯t have chased a normal person halfway across the United Territories.¡± Rasp felt the warmth in his chest start to fade as the trickle of sadness returned. It felt so real this time, too. The highs, the lows, the throbbing pressure in his skull, all the way down to the numb tingle in his fingertips ¨C it was disturbing just how accurate his imagination had gotten with this one.

    ¡°I wish you would stay this time,¡± Rasp said.

    ¡°Am I going somewhere?¡±

    ¡°Afraid so, Dingle. Any minute now I¡¯m going to wake up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not dreaming.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just what Dream Dingle would say.¡±

    ¡°If anything, this would be a hallucination. Considering one, you¡¯re not asleep, and two, you¡¯re interacting with your environment.¡±

    Now that really was something Faris would say. There was only one way to know for sure. ¡°Hop?¡± Rasp¡¯s voice rang out, bouncing along the surrounding trees as the echo faded in the distance. ¡°Are you still there? I¡¯m not hallucinating again, am I?¡±

    ¡°Are you hallucinating that you¡¯re cradling a very uncomfortable looking faun¡¯s face in your hands?¡± Hop called back from further away. The fucker was probably still hiding amongst the cranberry bushes, sticking to his tried and true strategy of ¡®don¡¯t get involved until the last second¡¯.

    Rasp¡¯s fingers stopped curling through Faris¡¯s beard in order to think about it. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not hallucinating then.¡±

    ¡°And the bear?¡±

    ¡°Also real.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Rasp said again, still not fully convinced. Oh well. If it meant extending the dream hallucination a little longer, who was he to question it?

    Faris grabbed Rasp¡¯s hand and yanked it from his face. His grip was stronger than Rasp remembered, capable of crushing each individual finger to pulp. ¡°Who is that?¡± The faun¡¯s voice was low and marked with caution. ¡°Have you had someone else with you this whole time?¡±

    Rasp wrangled his hand free, shaking the sting from his smarting fingers. ¡°I am allowed to see other people, you know. You found yourself a bear and I got myself an artificer. I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s a competition or anything, but I definitely won.¡±

    Faris responded with an irritated ear flap.

    ¡°You can come out now, Hop. The bear is Faris¡¯s girlfriend. She won¡¯t eat you.¡± Rasp paused, allowing a shit-eating grin to pull across his bruised face. ¡°You know, Dingle, I remember Rali mentioning something about you liking bears once. I didn¡¯t think she meant it literally.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe this.¡± Faris¡¯s voice was low and laced with the slightest hint of jealousy. ¡°Another faun, really? Did you seriously try to replace me?¡±

    ¡°Faris,¡± Rasp gestured from the smaller fuzzy shape to the larger fuzzy shape. ¡°This is Hopalong Humphry.¡±

    ¡°Hop, actually. A pleasure to meet you, Faris. I have heard so much about you.¡± There was a notable pause before Hop found the courage to ask, ¡°May I ask about your companion? It appears that she just shifted from a bear into a human woman.¡±

    ¡°She did what?¡± Rasp whipped his head around, straining to catch some sort of glimpse of the shapeshifter, all while silently cursing his stupid aura vision for fading so early.

    ¡°Hello!¡± A cheerful voice hailed to them as soft footsteps crunched in the curled leaves.

    ¡°So, a lot¡¯s happened since we last saw each other.¡± Faris stood and yanked Rasp onto his feet. Placing one arm firmly behind Rasp¡¯s back, Faris forcibly walked him closer. ¡°And, frankly it¡¯s hard to explain so we¡¯re just going to jump into the thick of it and wade our way through, okay?¡±

    Rasp found himself fighting his next step, not entirely sure why. Standing made his head all woozy again. Light and dark shadows danced along his vision as his sense of balance started to slip from his control. ¡°She¡¯s your girlfriend, Faris. I get it. Why do you have to make this so weird?¡±

    ¡°Rasp,¡± Faris said, ¡°meet Juneberry.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunate name.¡±

    ¡°Your sister.¡±

    Too much, his brain decided. Faris, shape-shifting bears, and a sister, which he most certainly did not have. What a shame. Once more, for what would hopefully be the last time, Rasp had managed to die without realizing it. As his world started to spin faster, growing dark along the edges like burnt paper, he heard Hop¡¯s voice murmur something a split second before everything went impossibly black.

    ¡°That certainly explains the enthusiastic lack of clothing.¡±

 168 - The Very Best Horsey-Horsey

    Daana descended the companionway from the orlop deck into the hold one tentative step at a time. She clutched the worn grab rail for dear life, cursing her vision for not making the transition from light to dark as fast as she needed it to. Steeper than a traditional stairway, the broad steps were built at a sharp fifty degree angle, sacrificing ease of use for utility. The descent wouldn¡¯t have been nearly so bad had she brought a lantern, but such was the life of a fledgling spy.

    Success meant learning to embrace the dark. Failure to do so was what separated the good spies from the dead ones. According to Ellisar, anyway¨Cwho, admittedly, may have just told her that simply to make Daana¡¯s assignments harder than necessary. Then again, this so called-assignment very well could have been an excuse to remove Daana from the cabin for the rest of the evening.

    No, not maybe. Daana realized as her face scrunched in disgust. It was definitely an excuse to get her out of the cabin for a few hours.

    Gross.

    The pungent stench of filthy straw and animal dung clogged the stale air. Daana drew the collar of her thin tunic over her mouth and nose to keep from gagging. Alas, aside from pulling the cloth up and over the rest of her head, there was little she could do to prevent the harsh, salty air from stinging her eyes. Daana blinked the tears from her vision as she placed each foot as softly as possible, careful not to betray her steps. She could see the hazy yellow light from an oil lantern flickering in the animal pens below.

    A disembodied voice drifted upwards. The sound grated against Daana¡¯s ears like broken ceramic scraping across tiled floors. ¡°Who¡¯s a good horsey-horsey-horsey? The best horsey? The smartest? That¡¯s right, you are. You are!¡±

    Daana threw the crook of her arm over her mouth, fighting to constrain her snorts of laughter. Fresh tears rolled down the sides of her sweat-soaked face¨Cthis time from a combination of hilarity and the pungent stench of animal dung currently burning the inside of her nose and lungs. She stopped and waited to regain her composure before continuing to sneak down the steep steps.

    Daana reached the end of the creaky companionway and stepped soundlessly onto the straw-littered floor. Carefully, moving on just her tiptoes, she crept further into the dim hold, hugging the shadows along the curved wall. The animal pens were across from her. A familiar shape stood inside the nearest one, bathed in the warm yellow glow of the lantern hanging from the hook above him.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Snag said, voice brimming with affection. ¡°¡®Cause you¡¯re the best, aren¡¯t you? Not like those stinky brats topside. You don¡¯t ask anything of me, do you? No ¡®go here, do this, fork over all your hard-earned coin¡¯. That¡¯s ¡®cause you¡¯re good horsey-horsey. Got manners, don¡¯t you?¡±

    The goblin continued smooshing Wormy¡¯s whiskered face between his clawed hands, uttering soft praises under his breath. The small, scruffy horse grunted its appreciation as it bucked its head further into his hands, demanding more affection.

    Oh gods, she was going to lose it. Daana¡¯s ears burned hot against the musty air as she clamped both hands over her quivering mouth.

    ¡°Especially that elf brat,¡± Snag continued. ¡°She¡¯s the worst of ¡®em all. Can¡¯t even sneak down a ladder without hitting every squeaky step on the way down.¡±

    Daana¡¯s lower jaw tumbled open in disbelief. Again?

    ¡°Can you believe it, Wormy? A species supposedly gifted with grace and elegance, and that clodhopper can¡¯t help but stomp everywhere she goes.¡±

    Dammit! Daana had been so careful this time, too. She was certain she¡¯d finally succeeded in catching the old goblin by surprise. With a disgruntled groan, she stalked out from her hiding place, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she shuffled into the flickering light. ¡°How? I barely made a sound this time.¡±

    ¡°You did, I hardly noticed at all,¡± Snag agreed, still lavishing unsettling amounts of love and praise onto his favorite horse. ¡°Silence doesn¡¯t do you a lot of good when your smell sticks out like a sore tongue.¡±

    Daana¡¯s eyes widened. Instinctively, she lifted her arm for a quick pit check. ¡°I don¡¯t stink.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. But everything else does down here. You¡¯re like the aromatic candle next to the shit pit. You stand out against the stench in a way that¡¯s noticeable to everyone who had the misfortune of having the stewed cabbage for lunch.¡±

    While it was a relief to learn she didn¡¯t stink, Daana wasn¡¯t so sure how she felt about Snag¡¯s vivid comparison. She trudged over to the short pen, kicking at a loose tuft of straw on her way. ¡°I¡¯m going to get you one of these days. Just wait and see.¡±

    ¡°Of course you will,¡± he replied, tone dripping like sticky-sweet sap. ¡°I¡¯ll probably be deaf and blind from old age by then, but what does that matter? The important thing is that you¡¯ll have done it. And then I can finally die at peace, knowing I taught one thing.¡±

    Daana knew better than to bait him with protest. She snagged one the apples from the burlap bag hanging from the tack hook instead, content to eat her feelings away. Her teeth sank into the peel with a crunch¨Cnot the pleasant, fresh kind either, but the sort of sound made when stepping on a snail. The mealy flesh disintegrated over her tongue, filling her mouth with the foul taste of overripe melon.

    Snag swiveled his head around at her. His wrinkled expression went from lovey-dovey to foul in the span of a single breath. ¡°You thankless thief! Spit that out! Apples are for horsies, not terrible sneaky sneakers.¡±

    Daana¡¯s gaze dropped to the open burlap sack hanging from the hook tack. She didn¡¯t have any desire to finish the unpalatable fruit, but the old instinct to do the opposite of what she was told was suddenly alive and well. She forced herself to take another bite, speaking around the mouthful of sad apple. ¡°Is it really stealing if you stole all this in the first place?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I purchased that,¡± Snag said, with the sort of venom in his voice that suggested he was more upset about forking over good silver than he was at being accused of theft. ¡°We all agreed, no bad behavior while on the blasted boat. It draws too much attention.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember agreeing to that.¡± Daana chewed thoughtfully for a moment. While tensions had simmered between her and Snag since the awkward heart-to-heart from a few days before, it probably would have been wise not to push her luck. Unfortunately, the temptation to poke the proverbial bear was one she simply could not ignore.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    She heaved herself up onto the half wall that made up the front of the animal pen. ¡°Does that mean I should put back that spyglass I found in the navigation room?¡±

    ¡°What were you doing in the navigation room?¡±

    ¡°...Not snooping?¡±

    The goblin shook his head at her, earrings jangling against one another softly. ¡°I hardly even recognize you anymore. What happened to that sweet summer child who used to cry when told to clean the rabbits for dinner?¡±

    Daana forced down another disappointing bite of apple. ¡°Correction, I still cry when you make me do that. I¡¯m just more subtle about it now.¡±

    ¡°Hear that, Wormy? She¡¯s still a softie when no one¡¯s lookin¡¯. That¡¯s sweet, innit? Not as sweet as you, though. Nope, nobody¡¯s as sweet as you. ¡®Cause you¡¯re the best horsie. Aren¡¯t you? Aren¡¯t you?¡± Snag said with the sort of fondness in his voice that made Daana want to shudder. It wasn¡¯t the open display of affection itself that was odd, but the fact that it was coming from Snag¨Csomeone who dedicated a good deal of energy convincing others that he had no soft side.

    Snag selected a stiff bristled brush from a bucket on the floor and set about scrubbing Wormy¡¯s tusks with vigor. ¡°Grab that other brush and start giving his coat a good once over.¡±

    Daana remained sitting on the half wall, her legs dangling over the side of the stockyard pen. The musty smell of damp hay and animal dung was a lot stronger now that she was sitting directly above it. ¡°Not happening,¡± she said. ¡°Your beast nipped me in the butt last time I got near him.¡±

    ¡°Probably ¡®cause you keep munching his apples.¡±

    Daana opened her mouth to deliver an equally scathing reply when the ship lurched with a sudden, thunderous boom, knocking her from her perch. Her hands shot out in front of her as she spilled towards the ground. Pain surged up her wrists as she struck the deck in a half crouch, saving herself from what could have been a nasty tumble. The ship¡¯s timbers rattled like old bones as decades of dust and debris rained down from the low-hanging rafters. Above, muffled by several floors, Daana could just make out the sounds of screaming and footsteps pounding against the upper deck. She looked to Snag, realizing he wore a terrified expression similar to her own.

    ¡°That was a powder charge,¡± Daana said, not because it was helpful, but because stating the obvious might prompt Snag into saying something more helpful than what she had to offer. She gathered herself into a crouch, not bothering to wipe the filth that clung to her clothes.

    The goblin watched the ceiling, his ears fanned wide and flicking from side to side, listening. ¡°I warned Ellisar under pain of dismemberment not to use those unless it was an absolute emergency.¡±

    The clamor was growing louder. Daana kept her voice low so as not to disturb whatever it was going on above them. ¡°There¡¯s always the chance she did it anyway.¡±

    ¡°I wish that were the case, but it sounds like we might be in trouble. What kind of weapons do you got on you?¡±

    Her hands flung out to her sides defensively. ¡°You said not to carry any weapons! Draws too much attention.¡±

    ¡°I said to make it look like you weren¡¯t carrying any weapons. Not to forgo them completely!¡± As if to prove his point, Snag withdrew two hidden daggers from wherever they¡¯d been hidden on his person. He noticed her staring and hid them behind his back, out of reach. ¡°Nah, you gotta learn your lesson the hard way. Go on. Find something to arm yourself with, quick like.¡±

    With a shake of her head, Daana darted across the straw-littered ground. The livestock pens were located just off of the cargo hold, a depressing distance away from the arms locker, unfortunately. While she wouldn¡¯t find a proper sword or shield anywhere nearby, there was a decent collection of equipment stored in the tool area. She yanked a rusted pitchfork from the wall and tested its weight in her hands. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it would do.

    Just in time, too. Fast footsteps came pounding down the stairs, proceeding the three weathered-looking individuals that burst into the cramped hold. The lead goblin pointed her curved saber at Daana and shouted something too loud to understand. It sounded like Laftak, the language of the flatlands, but the dialect was a far cry from the formal conversations Daana had learned back at the academy.

    Daana tilted her head at the grizzled intruder. ¡°What?¡±

    The goblin repeated herself with as much success as her previous attempt.

    Shrugging, Daana replied in Laftak the best way she knew how. The goblin stopped shouting and stared back at her unblinkingly. The two ruffians behind her, a rather scrawny looking elf and what might have been a human, exchanged confused glances.

    ¡°Did you just tell her where the fucking library is?¡± Snag said.

    Daana shrugged. ¡°I thought that¡¯s what she was asking.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re pirates, girl. They want us to surrender quietly so they can hold us for ransom and all that crap.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well in that case, forget I said anything.¡± Daana¡¯s feet shifted into the fighter¡¯s stance that had been hammered into her after many, many painful training sessions. None of the pirates had a bow, fortunately. Just swords and various other sharp, stabby implements of death. Most of which Daana was certain she could outrun if necessary.

    For several seconds, the trespassers continued to stare at her in varied stages of bewilderment. ¡°Snag,¡± Daana shouted over her shoulder, ¡°why aren¡¯t they attacking?¡±

    ¡°No offense, but I think they were expecting us to surrender. You an¡¯ I don¡¯t exactly have the look of warriors, you know.¡±

    With an infuriated scream, the goblin pirate waved her sword at her companions. Spurred back into action, the trio split. The goblin and elf advanced in Daana¡¯s direction while the third went for Snag. Daana couldn¡¯t help but feel slightly flattered by that. Sure, Snag may not have been armed with a super menacing pitchfork, but they obviously took her for the more accomplished fighter.

    Idiots.

    They had no idea what sort of mistake they¡¯d just made. She¡¯d witnessed Snag disarm someone with a spoon once. It involved jamming it in their eye socket, which even the thought of still made her a little queasy, but it was a memorable death nonetheless.

    A shrill scream from the other side of the stock pens alerted Daana that Snag¡¯s opponent had already met their gruesome end. There wasn¡¯t time to double check, however. Daana charged, brandishing her pitchfork like a spear. The goblin stepped out of the way in time but the elf was a hair too slow. The prongs scraped along his ribcage, ripping a hole into his tunic that ran red with blood when Daana tugged her rusty weapon free.

    She spun in time to block a blow from the goblin¡¯s sword. The pitchfork¡¯s wood handle shuddered violently between her hands as the strikes rained down. Daana saw her opening, ducked to the side and kicked, sending her smaller opponent sprawling. She had just enough time to recover before the elf lunged at her, screaming unknown obscenities. To be honest, even if Daana was fluent in the language, it would have been difficult to make out what he was saying over the sound of thundering hoofbeats.

    Hoofbeats?

    Daana looked just in time to jump out of the way. Wormy reared, striking down the elf with his front legs and then landed on top of him with a bone-crunching slam.

    ¡°Get on!¡± Snag shouted.

    Still clutching her trusty pitchfork, Daana swung her leg over the side of Wormy and had just enough time to grab onto the back of Snag before the little horse took off again. She used all the strength in her legs to hold on as Wormy picked up speed. It was like riding a furry, temperamental barrel. ¡°Snag,¡± she screamed over the sounds of the horse, ¡°slow down, we¡¯re going to run out of ship!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re taking the stairs.¡±

    ¡°Horses can¡¯t climb!¡±

    ¡°Hush, girl! I¡¯m hoping Wormy doesn¡¯t know that!¡±

 169 - Hands Make The Best Souvenirs

    The companionway drew closer as Wormy barreled towards it at full speed. Daana pressed herself flat against Snag¡¯s back and screwed her eyes shut, refusing to bear witness to the final seconds of her bizarre life. She felt the little horse¡¯s body lurch upwards at an unnatural angle. Wormy¡¯s movements were short and jerky as he traversed the steep stairs with the sort of agility one would expect to find in a mountain goat and not a horse.

    Daana refused to open her eyes. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable moment Wormy lost his footing and the three of them plummeted to their deaths.

    To her surprise, the rotund horse hopped all the way to the top of the companionway without issue. Wormy¡¯s lurching gait evened out beneath them as he galloped forward onto the orlop deck. He continued his mad dash, spurred onwards by tender words of encouragement from Snag. Daana reluctantly opened her eyes to find the deck in utter chaos around them. A mix of pirates and sailors clashed together, filling the crowded space with the deafening roar of a fight.

    Only a few of the fighters stopped to gawk back at them. The rest appeared to have more pressing matters on their hands than to worry about the strange, tusked horse barreling through their ranks.

    ¡°Go on, then. One more. You got this.¡± Snag maneuvered the small horse with a sharp turn, directing Wormy up the next flight of stairs.

    It was official, Daana decided. Wormy was not a horse, but a force of nature. She vowed to never eat another one of his treats ever again. In fact, she owed him a full bag of apples after this. No, two bags! As many as his little heart desired if only they made it to the top deck without breaking their necks.

    Panicked voices drew Daana¡¯s attention ahead of them. A slew of grungy pirates were making their way down the companionway directly in the path of the oncoming horse. Realizing their error, the pirates spun around, screaming as they scrambled over one another to get out of the way. The closest individual tripped and was subsequently trampled. As were the second and third, each producing a muffled crunch that would undoubtedly haunt Daana¡¯s dreams for years to come. Wormy reached the top of the companionway several jostling leaps and bounds later, right on the heels of the sole survivor. While the pirate may have escaped the stairwell, his getaway was cut regrettably short by Snag, who plunged a blade into his throat as Wormy surged past onto the quarter deck.

    Topside was even more chaotic than below. A thick blanket of mist swept over the sides of the ship, making it impossible to see anything more than a few yards ahead at a time. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafted on the breeze. The main source of smoke appeared to be coming from the navigation room behind them. Flames lit the interior, visible from the outside via the smoldering hole where the door had previously hung. From the damage, it looked as if the navigation room had erupted from the inside out.

    The wet air stirred with smoke, sulfur, and ash. There was something else as well. Something the others likely didn¡¯t notice. It buzzed against Daana¡¯s skin, causing every hair on her arm to stand on end. Awoken by magic, the dark veins within her arms were suddenly alive and wriggling, pulling at her flesh as the darkness fought to escape. Daana bit back her scream as pain flooded her body.

    ¡°It¡¯s about fucking time!¡± Ashwyn¡¯s booming voice pulled Daana back onto the outside. ¡°You two get your scrawny asses over here so I don¡¯t have to carry your shit anymore.¡±

    Through the churning mist and smoke, Daana could just barely make out Ashwyn¡¯s bulky form. The large orc had her back to the mizzenmast. There was a circle of pirates gathered loosely around her, but they hung back, as if afraid to be the first to breach the orc¡¯s deadly range. Their hesitation was not unfounded. The scattering of fallen bodies at Ashwyn¡¯s feet made it quite clear that the first pirate to volunteer his or her neck stood to have it snapped in half.

    Wormy broke through the ring of pirates, scattering the already hesitant fighters into a disorganized retreat.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be glad to not have to carry this anymore.¡± Ashwyn swung Snag¡¯s tattered leather satchel from around her neck and tossed it to him. She jutted the hilt of Daana¡¯s sword in her direction with less fanfare. ¡°I don¡¯t know what sort of depravities you keep in that bag, mate, but I¡¯d feel better not having to be the one to carry it.¡±

    Snag peered inside his satchel, voice laced with fury. ¡°It¡¯s half empty!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sorry ¡®bout that. Whatever the fuck Ellie pulled out of there sure packed a wallop though. Ain¡¯t ever seen a door blow off its hinges before.¡± Ashwyn stopped talking only long enough to take a breath. No longer burdened with an extra sword hanging from her hip, she adjusted her stance to accommodate the sudden shift in weight. ¡°Do I want to know where you two have been all this time?¡±

    Daana slid from Wormy and got into position alongside Ashwyn, feeling relieved to have traded the pitchfork for something more familiar. If only there had been time to find a shield, some chainmail, and maybe a nice, sturdy helmet. Oh well. Worst case scenario, she supposed she could use Ashwyn as a shield if needed. ¡°We were below deck when we heard the explosion. What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Ambush.¡± The ring of pirates had regrouped and were starting to close in again. Ashwyn busied herself with making faces at the advancing enemy, silently daring one of them to be the first to make a move. ¡°There was a galley hiding in a cove along the coast here, waiting for an unescorted target to sail past. They used the fog as cover and caught the watch unaware. Our dear, sweet captain offered them cargo and hostages in an attempt to appease them.¡±

    Daana nodded as she followed along. ¡°The pirates didn¡¯t go for it?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, the deal was fine with them. It was Ellie who took offense to the bargain. She¡¯s not one for being a hostage unless it¡¯s her idea. She blew a damn hole into the ship and tossed the Ducky Luck¡¯s captain overboard. Now it¡¯s just chaos with everyone fighting everyone because no one knows what to do.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    A crackling bolt of lightning erupted from the dark, churning clouds overhead and struck the mainmast in a shower of yellow and white sparks.

    ¡°Oh, and the other side has an air elemental. I probably should have mentioned that earlier. The witch didn¡¯t take very kindly to her beloved pirate captain being split from ear to ear. She¡¯s currently in a game of cat-and-mouse with the missus, out to exact her revenge or whatnot.¡±

    Daana gawked up at the brown and black thunderclouds swirling overhead, as thick as cotton. ¡°The witch can control lightning?¡± Most air elementals stuck to wind, sometimes rain, but few were capable of harnessing lightning¨Cnot safely, anyway. Lightning manipulation was a highly unstable ability that hardly anyone ever got right, often at the expense of their own life.

    ¡°Seems that way.¡±

    Snag¡¯s voice rang out over the surrounding commotion. ¡°That¡¯s all very nice and all, but do we have a fucking plan? We are literally standing targets right now.¡±

    Unlike Snag, Ashwyn didn¡¯t seem all that concerned with the ring of pirates slowly tightening in around them. ¡°Well I was supposed to be securing the four of us a longboat, but I got held up. Then you two arrived and I daresay you¡¯re caught up on everything I know insofar.¡±

    ¡°Then what are you waiting for?¡± Daana demanded. ¡°Do that thing you do.¡±

    ¡°What thing I do?¡±

    ¡°Where you convince the enemy to do what you want them to do. That way we don¡¯t have to fight our way out of this.¡±

    ¡°That only works if I mean it. Considering these no good swine dogs interrupted a moment of privacy, I¡¯m really not feeling all that merciful right now,¡± Ashwyn said. ¡°Besides, these are pirates. It¡¯s not like they''d believe me even if I was telling the truth.¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods,¡± Snag rolled his head back with a groan. He was still seated on Wormy¡¯s saddleless back, content to remain as far above the action as possible. ¡°You two go get the fucking boat. I¡¯ll find Ellisar.¡±

    Daana saw the flicker of a match seconds before he lit the charge in his hands. She ducked for cover the same time Ashwyn did. Snag whipped the powder charge into the enemy ranks, reducing the closest pirates to bloody clumps of flesh. Judging from the array of scattered, screaming bodies, those unfortunate enough to survive the blast would only do so for another few hours before succumbing to blood loss

    ¡°Don¡¯t let her do anything stupid!¡± Snag shouted as he started off towards the bow at a quick gallop, disappearing into the mist.

    Ashwyn raised her eyebrow at Daana. ¡°Was he talking to me or you?¡±

    ¡°Could have been either or, honestly.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Ashwyn sprang back onto her feet with inexplicably spryness. ¡°You heard him, Peaches. Time for you and I to secure us a ride out of here.¡±

    Daana tugged the collar of her tunic over her mouth and nose as she scurried after the orc¡¯s hulking frame. The thick smoke from the powder charge stung her eyes as she stole silently into the gloom, trying not to lose sight of Ashwyn. The rest of the ship was in chaos. Around them, crewmembers raced through the smoke and rolling mist, looking as lost as Daana felt.

    Ashwyn darted down the steps from the quarter deck to the main. She met resistance halfway and was forced to reconsider her strategy. Gripping the handrail, the orc kicked with both legs, sending the front two pirates hurtling into the deluge of bodies pressing at their backs. ¡°Stairs are out of order, Peaches! Up and over that rail and, for goddess¡¯s sake, land with those knees bent like I taught you!¡±

    There wasn¡¯t time to question the command. Daana swung her legs over the side and jumped, only realizing she couldn¡¯t actually see the main deck below until she was already plummeting through the ash-laden air. She hit the rickety deck in a manner that sent a shockwave of pain up each leg. Thankfully her ankles survived the landing somehow. Before Daana had time to gather her senses, a dark shape leapt out of the swirling haze at her.

    Daana threw up her blade in time to block the blow. Instinct kicked in and she shifted her footing, trading blow for blow with her assailant in rapid succession. Harassing her opponent into a semi-retreat, Daana saw her opening and ducked low, throwing her leg wide in a sweeping arch. The leg sweep caught her opponent by surprise and they tumbled backwards onto the deck with a muffled thud.

    The pirate¡¯s hood fell from his head and Daana found herself staring back into the wide-eyed face of an elf. Seizing Daana¡¯s moment of hesitation, he rolled, reaching for the sword he¡¯d lost while being dropped on his ass.

    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t!¡± Daana surged forward, bringing her sword down with all her might. Her blade met resistance when it struck bone, but the initial force of the swing carried it through, severing the elf¡¯s dominant hand in a single slice. Her opponent flailed backwards with a scream, grabbing his bloody stump as he writhed helplessly on the deck.

    Daana screamed too. And then, for whatever reason, felt compelled to add insult to injury by kicking the severed hand away from herself.

    A heavy thunk landed onto the deck behind Daana, informing her that Ashwyn had finally given up playing dominoes with the pirates on the stairs. ¡°A hand, nice,¡± the orc congratulated. ¡°Why you kicking it for? You gotta keep that, you know.¡±

    Daana made a face, her queasy stomach performing an acrobatic flip at the mental image. As if the elf¡¯s stump spurting blood every which way wasn¡¯t bad enough. ¡°Why would anyone do that?¡±

    ¡°As a souvenir, obviously. Just think of the puns, girl!¡± Ashwyn approached the still-whimpering elf as she spoke. ¡°Need a hand? Give a hand? Take a hand? You¡¯re passing up quite the opportunity here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re demented.¡± What was possibly even more demented was the way Ashwyn dealt with the maimed pirate. Seeing her coming, the elf started to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood in his wake across the worn deck. Ashwyn caught up to him in a mere matter of strides and hoisted the screaming elf over her shoulder before dumping him unceremoniously over the side of the ship.

    ¡°Oh, I know!¡± The orc spun around on her heel, eyes wide with excitement. ¡°String the hand on a necklace and give it to Snag. Guilt him into wearing it as a show of appreciation for everything he¡¯s done for you.¡±

    Now that was a tempting idea. Apart from the part where Daana had to carry a severed stump around with her in the meantime. ¡°You know, I think maybe this is what he meant by ¡®don¡¯t do anything stupid¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Huh. You might be onto something.¡±

    ¡°Just like we should be finding our way onto a boat, maybe?¡± Daana reminded her.

    ¡°Look at you, being so responsible today. Makes my heart proud.¡± Ashwyn broke into a pearly grin that was as genuine as it was terrifying. ¡°You¡¯re right as rain, of course. And just for that, I¡¯m going to let you take the lead.¡±

    Flattery wasn¡¯t going to work this time. ¡°Gods, no. We both know I¡¯m going to be using you as a shield.¡±

    ¡°Fine, but I get to keep the hand.¡±

 170 - Not Your Nanny

    The churning gray and brown sky lit as a lance of lightning struck the foremast, illuminating the chaotic deck in eerie white light. Wooden splinters and cinders rained down overhead as the mast ripped from its rigging and fell. Ashwyn yanked Daana to the side. They huddled against the railing, watching wide-eyed as the broken mast toppled over the side of the Ducky Luck and hung limp above the raging sea.

    Ashwyn¡¯s face was drained of color. Daana knew it wasn¡¯t the state of the ship that concerned her. She gave the orc¡¯s hand a reassuring squeeze. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Ellisar survive worse than that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Probably just makin¡¯ a mess to prove a point. I¡¯m sure Snag will slap some sense into her shortly.¡± Despite her bold words, Ashwyn¡¯s voice had lost its brazen confidence. Still watching the churning sky, the orc rose and pulled Daana back onto her feet with her. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ve got to get to that boat, pronto.¡±

    Daana followed Ashwyn¡¯s bulky form through the swirl of fog and ash without protest. From her evenings spent absentmindedly wandering the upper deck, Daana knew the Ducky Luck had two workboats designed to pull double duty as emergency crafts in a pinch. Unfortunately, she was not alone in this knowledge. When she and Ashwyn arrived at the first davit, they found the boat missing, having already been deployed.

    Although Ashwyn didn¡¯t voice her trepidation, Daana could hear the orc¡¯s tusks grinding against the flat of her upper teeth. Ashwyn changed course, dodging bits of fallen mast and burning debris in the direction of the second longboat station. Sailors and pirates alike darted through the misty gloom around them.

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t they retreating?¡± Daana demanded between ragged breaths. With their captain slain and their best fighter, the air elemental, set on exacting her revenge at any cost, including the lives of everyone around her, Daana was surprised the rest of the pirates hadn¡¯t simply called it quits. ¡°Even I can see this is a lost cause.¡±

    ¡°Desperation, Peaches.¡± The pirates were not alone in their desperation, apparently. The distress in Ashwyn¡¯s tone was damn near palpable. ¡°I noticed it when the mast fell. Didn¡¯t want to say anything to get you riled, but we might be in a pickle here if that other longboat¡¯s gone.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°To your left, Peaches. Look, but don¡¯t stop moving your feet.¡± Ashwyn slowed down beside her, looping her arm through Daana¡¯s. She guided the elf¡¯s steps, allowing her to take in the scene without sacrificing their speed. A decrepit galley bucked on the churning waters beside them, tethered to the Ducky Luck via a twisted tangle of ropes and grappling hooks. Something was wrong with the stern, however. It sat abnormally low in the water.

    Daana may not have been an expert, but even she could see something was amiss. ¡°It¡¯s sinking?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well you know, Ellie. Couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone. Had to go put a hole in the enemy ship. Unfortunately for us, that means these buggers are more desperate than usual to seize this one for themselves.¡± With Daana¡¯s attention back on her feet, Ashwyn released her arm and assumed the lead once more. ¡°Which is why we need to get that last longboat. Even if it means I have to toss you overboard to swim for it.¡±

    Daana tensed at what she sincerely hoped was an offhanded jest. While she had come a long way with her deep mistrust of boats, her disdain for water and any activity short of bathing had yet to improve. ¡°Now that definitely qualifies as something stupid.¡±

    The pair were nearing the second davit when Ashwyn¡¯s fast footsteps ground to a halt. She ducked down beside the taffrail and signaled for Daana to do the same. Wordlessly, Daana slipped into the shadows beside her.

    To her relief, she saw the second longboat was not yet deployed. Not from a lack of trying, from the looks of it. Judging from the blood and bodies scattered haphazardly on the deck, several of the crew had been in the process of lowering the longboat when they were set upon by the enemy. The pirates may have won, but their victory had come at a loss. The left arm of the davit had snapped away during the scuffle. Without two functioning arms, the pirates were forced to guide the longboat down by hand. A feat made significantly harder by the raging swell that threatened to smash the smaller boat to pieces against Ducky Luck¡¯s barnacled side.

    Daana whispered to Ashwyn, ¡°Is there a reason we¡¯re hiding and not seizing the boat?¡±

    ¡°Never work harder than you have to.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s gaze was cold and calculating, watching the progress across from her with the expression of a hungry scavenger about to capitalize one someone else¡¯s hard earned kill. ¡°We¡¯ll wait here, catch our breath, and as soon as they¡¯ve got it in the water, we¡¯ll jump ¡®em. Remember, wait for the lead to be secured first. The last thing we need is for the current to whisk our ride away without anybody in it.¡±

    A second lightning bolt erupted against the quarter deck above them, sending a shockwave of smoldering wood and splinters in its wake. Startled by the blast, one of the pirates glanced worriedly over his shoulder at the destruction. His frightened gaze dropped lower, settling over Ashwyn and Daana.

    ¡°Change of plans!¡± Ashwyn surged forward, her sword already drawn and ready to taste blood. ¡°Go for the rope, Peaches! I¡¯ll take care of the sea dogs.¡±

    The pirates dropped the rope in favor of their swords. Throwing herself into a dive, Daana seized the end of the lead before it disappeared over the side. The rope bit into her hands, splitting open the calloused blisters that marred the inside of each palm. Screaming, being dragged on her ass along the rough deck, Daana kicked out with her legs and braced them against the siding. The boat jerked to a stop below her. Every muscle in her back and legs shuddered in protest as she slowly guided the rope down, hand over hand, until the lead went slack, signifying the boat had reached the water.

    By the time Daana had the lead tied, there were already two pirates dead on the ground, soon to be followed by a third. The remaining pair decided it wasn¡¯t worth their lives and turned tail and ran. Finished with her opponent, Ashwyn¡¯s broad shoulders dropped in exhaustion as she trudged back over to the davit. In lieu of the ¡®excellent work, Daana. Way to save our boat and our bacon¡¯ the orc¡¯s disgruntled stare settled onto the knot Daana had used to secure the lead to the ship¡¯s rail.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Who the fuck taught you to tie rope? That¡¯s just shameful.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you did good. Soak it all in and get a fat head, why don¡¯t you?¡± Ashwyn slung her leg over the side of the railing, preparing to climb down. ¡°Good news. Subpar knot work aside, thanks to you, we¡¯re not going to have to swim for it after all.¡±

    Daana didn¡¯t trust the orc¡¯s unnerving grin. ¡°Why do I get the feeling you¡¯re about to deliver some bad news?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s pearly smile widened past the point of comfort. ¡°I sincerely hope you¡¯re better at climbing than you are at cards, because this next bit might get a little hairy.¡±

    Another blast rocked the ship from stern to bow, stealing¡¯s Daana¡¯s words from her mouth. She whipped her head in the direction of the commotion. The fog parted, revealing the navigation room fire had spread across the quarterdeck, steadily working its way up the mizzenmast. A single figure stood backlit by the flames with arms thrown wide, whipping the wind into a frenzy to encourage the flames higher.

    Ashwyn called to Daana from below, her voice muffled by both the distance and the roar of elements. ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the air elemental.¡± The witch¡¯s magic rippled so thick in the air, the sheer weight of it took Daana¡¯s breath away. She took a breath and held her palm out, closing her eyes as she opened her sixth sense to her surroundings. Undulating waves of static buzzed across Daana¡¯s skin, warning her of what was to come.

    Her eyes shot open with a gasp. ¡°She¡¯s about to lose control.¡±

    ¡°So no time like the present to get on the lifeboat then, yeah?¡± Ashwyn waited for a response and, when none came, issued a disgruntled sigh. ¡°Shit. I think I know what Snag was warning me about now.¡±

    Tearing her gaze from the quarterdeck, Daana leaned over the heaving side of the ship and looked down. Ashwyn was almost all the way to the longboat now. The rickety boat bucked and heaved amongst the choppy waves, pulling at the rope tethering it to the bigger ship like an unruly dog. Daana raised her voice in order to be heard over the raging din. ¡°I think I have to go do something stupid.¡±

    Ashwyn glanced back up at her, face wet and dripping from the ocean spray. ¡°Sweet goddess, Snag is gonna kill me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he or Ellisar are going to get away if I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡®Ugh, fine!¡± Ashwyn dropped the remaining distance into the small boat, gripping the sides for dear life as it heaved beneath her. ¡°I¡¯m not your nanny. If you want to go get yourself killed, have at it.¡±

    Daana would have wished for something more encouraging, but it would have to do. Ensuring her sword was still secured at her side, she sprinted across the main deck, unwilling to waste any precious time utilizing the shadows. The magic grew stronger as she neared. The black lines under her skin pulled harder, and harder, like a ravenous tiger on a chain.

    Daana climbed halfway up the splintered stairs to the quarterdeck and peeked over the side. The elemental paced back and forth across the destroyed deck with her head tilted upwards at the sails, scanning the yards for telltale signs of life. Even with the mist and smoke to cloak Daana¡¯s movement, the deck was too open to risk it. The witch would obliterate her before she even got halfway.

    Daana searched the area around her for an alternative form of cover, silently cursing herself for not finding a shield along the way. Just as she was considering something really stupid, a small spherical object rolled off of the roof of the navigation room and clattered towards the pacing figure. The witch leapt out of the way, throwing up a protective gust of wind a split second before the powder charge erupted.

    Seizing her opportunity, Daana flew up and over the stairs without thinking. She pounded across the smoky deck, avoiding the small pockets of scattered fire. Alerted by her footsteps, the witch spun around and threw up her hands the same moment Daana slammed into her. They struck the upturned deck and rolled. Daana kicked, clawed, and punched to gain the upper hand. A close-fisted strike to the windpipe left the witch temporarily stunned, gasping for air.

    Daana straddled the witch¡¯s squirming body beneath her, using her knees to pin her to the deck. Magic crackled between the witch¡¯s hands as she threw them forward, choking on a spell lodged in her swollen throat. Daana caught the witch by the wrists, skin burning as the magic poured into her, and screamed, ¡°Exhaurire!¡±

    Blistering heat surged up her arms in waves, burning its way through her body until each nerve ending screamed in agony. The witch struggled beneath her, attempting to wrestle free, but Daana held strong. Power pooled in her chest, crushing her lungs as it whipped, whirled, and swelled, threatening to burst free. Bright lights popped across Daana¡¯s vision as hot stomach acid scalded the inside of mouth.

    Too much, her mind screamed. Cold panic surged forth, snapping Daana back to her senses. She released the witch¡¯s limp hands to sever the connection, but the power disobeyed. Blue magic arced between them, independent of a conductor. The dark veins within Daana¡¯s wrists squirmed with hunger. They pulled, pulled, pulled, draining the witch who had since gone still beneath her.

    Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

    Head swimming, Daana staggered to her feet but her sense of balance was gone. The once solid deck undulated like ripples across water beneath her unsteady feet. Release it, the small part of her mind that was still functioning commanded. Now! Before the darkness takes control.

    A spell danced across her tongue unbidden. Dazed, barely able to keep her eyes open, Daana threw her arms into the air and screamed. Lightning erupted from her hands and rocketed high into the air. The magic erupted with a blast so loud, it canceled out Daana¡¯s hearing altogether. The force of the explosion pulsed downwards, bowling Daana backwards like a dry leaf in the wind.

    She staggered, catching herself against the railing, her world still spinning. Ash and embers rained down from above, catching the remaining sails alight in flame. Daana still couldn¡¯t hear, but her sense of touch felt magnified tenfold. Every creak and groan from the ship reverberated through her screaming bones. Behind her, a steady clump, clump, clump grew stronger. Confused, Daana turned and could just make out the shape of a little horse as it burst from the companionway towards her.

    A familiar hand reached for her. Some nagging instinct ordered Daana to jump and her legs obeyed. She mounted, managing to not slide off the other side of the horse as the ship shot past. Wormy didn¡¯t stop when the deck ran out. Clinging to Snag, unable to hear the shrill scream that leapt from her mouth, they sailed over the side of the ship and plummeted for several heartbeats before plunging into the icy depths below.

 171 - The Fire Witch

    The stench of smoke and charred flesh clouded the damp forest air. It burned the inside of Oralia¡¯s nose and throat, causing her eyes to water. She ignored the swell of hot tears, knowing any movement, even to quickly wipe away the moisture clouding her vision, would be enough to give up her position. She remained perfectly still, crouched low amongst a tangle of overgrown bracken, catching only glimpses of the witch that paced restlessly between the trees looking for her.

    ¡°Always have to do it the hard way,¡± Grettie muttered as she shuffled along, twisting and turning her hands in a manner that did not appear nervous, but compulsive. There was a noticeable twitch in her fingers as well. ¡°You accidentally burn one acquaintance to a crisp and suddenly you¡¯re labeled ¡®untrustworthy¡¯.¡±

    The witch¡¯s muttered grumblings grew faster and more frantic, working herself into a rage. The twitch in her fingers worsened with her souring mood until the building impulse was simply too strong to ignore. With an infuriated yell, Grettie whipped around and threw her hands into the air, channeling a surge of flame skyward. The spell incinerated the lower boughs of a black cottonwood in a volatile flash of red and black.

    More smoke filled the air as Grettie turned back around, scanning the dim forest floor for her troublesome quarry. ¡°How¡¯s that for untrustworthy, huh? Now you get on out here before I¡¯m forced to do something we both regret!¡±

    Oralia kept painfully still, forcing slow breaths through her irritated nose as her thoughts raced behind her eyes. Of all the types of witches, why did it have to be a fire elemental? Those were the worst of the worst! Fire elements were often hot headed, temperamental bastards who, against all odds, managed to survive a childhood rife with accidental fires. Only the most successful survived into adulthood for grim reasons.

    The challenge often left its mark, resulting in highly unstable individuals with a perverse sense of conscience. Grettie was clearly no exception, considering she¡¯s incinerated her orc companion without a second thought.

    A disembodied voice slipped amongst Oralia¡¯s panicking thoughts. If you don¡¯t move, you¡¯ll end up in the same way. An unrecognizable, charred corpse.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking,¡± Oralia hissed under her breath.

    I see, drawing the witch right to us then. An excellent plan if you wish to die!

    This was, admittedly, a most unusual situation. As Oralia was playing the part of the unwilling host, the dark magic could not afford to let her die. If she perished before it had a chance to infect another vessel, it too would go belly up¨Cor something like that. Truth be told, Oralia wasn¡¯t too keen on the exact details. What she did know was that no matter how much it detested her, it was in the entity¡¯s best interest to keep her alive. For the meantime, anyway.

    Oralia grimaced as the skin on her right arm crawled, as if swarming with insects. A quick glance assured her there was nothing there.

    You¡¯re sensing magic, you fool, the entity hissed. Dodge to the left, now!

    Ignoring every instinct screaming at her to do the exact opposite of what the entity said, Oralia obeyed. She threw her body sideways in an awkward roll, crashing through a tangle of barbed vines as she did so. The thorns dug into her wool clothing and marred the exposed flesh on her arms with deep red scratches. The pain was preferable to the alternative, however. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the bracken was now nothing more than a smoldering pile of burnt ash.

    Fucking witches, Oralia cursed within her head. If she allowed that to happen to her, Sascha would resurrect her from the dead just so he could kill her all over again.

    Are you going to allow your beloved to bury you, as you did for Curly?

    Oralia tensed. Amidst the fear and fury stirring within her mind, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder how the spirit had learned which vulnerabilities were best used against her.

    I am one with your thoughts and dreams. I see what Curly¡¯s death did to you. Poor Sascha isn¡¯t as resilient as you, I¡¯m afraid. Poor fool wouldn¡¯t survive the heartache.

    What made Oralia even more furious was the fact that the spirit¡¯s motivation was working. Ignoring the lancing pain within her legs, she gathered her knees beneath her and took off between the trees. The green and black shapes of the forest turned into an undistinguishable blur as she slammed her feet against the slippery ground, doubling her speed.

    ¡°Looks like the rabbit¡¯s been flushed from hiding!¡± The craggily voice rang out behind her. ¡°Run, run, little rabbit. You¡¯re not getting away from me.¡±

    Oralia ducked and weaved as she sprinted, attempting to lose her psychotic tail. A white oak burst into flames to her left, confirming that the witch was in hot pursuit. Over the ragged in and out of her own smoke-infused lungs, she could hear Grettie¡¯s fast footsteps gaining on her.

    Foolish orc. You cannot outrun the human. Use your smarts. The only way out of this is to best her in battle.

    Fuck. That.

    Oralia might have been an accomplished fighter, but that meant nothing next to a fire elemental. The moment she stopped running was the same moment her body was rendered into an unrecognizable pile of ash. No, there was another way. Her years on the battlefield had taught that all species, humans included, had shortcomings. Humans were fast on their feet, yes, but they lacked the finely tuned senses of an orc. Their sense of smell and hearing, in particular, were poor in comparison. If Oralia could put enough space between her and Grettie, she¡¯d be able to give her the slip and bunker down somewhere out of sight. And then, come nightfall, she could pick her way back to camp under the cloak of darkness.

    It wasn¡¯t the best plan, granted, but it was still miles ahead of taking on a witch head-to-head by herself! Of all the ludicrous ideas Oralia had ever heard, the spirit¡¯s suggestion was by far the absolute wo¨C

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    A wall of flame erupted across the ground in front of her. Oralia changed directions, only to find herself running parallel with the growing fire barricade. She whipped around, dark eyes taking in the flickering expanse of fire, desperately searching for a way out. It was too late. She was fully encircled now. The dancing tongues of red and orange flames fused together, allowing a small figure to slip through seconds before the ring sealed shut.

    Grettie shuffled closer, appearing entirely too at ease for being in the middle of a raging inferno of fire. She was average size for a human woman, which was substantially smaller than Oralia. Unfortunately, a thing like size didn¡¯t matter much when your adversary possessed the ability to incinerate you with a snap of their fingers. Grettie¡¯s hair was a wild tangle of dirty brown curls nearly the same color of the matted furs she wore on her back. Other than a small knife tucked into her belt, she wore no weapon¨Cnot a great sign when dealing with elementals.

    The scruffy human tilted her head, her nose curled in disdain as she studied her prey. ¡°There¡¯s something off about you, orc.¡±

    Whatever magic was holding the fire together was keeping the worst of the smoke at bay as well, allowing Oralia both the ability to not only breathe, but talk as well. While she had never been one for talking her way out of these sorts of situations, Oralia supposed there was no time like the present to put her serious lack of skills to the test. She stood straighter, mimicking the way Grettie tilted her head. ¡°You do not know who I am?¡±

    Grettie raised one dirt encrusted finger to scratch the inside of her left nostril. ¡°Should I?¡±

    ¡°You chased me all this way, went through the trouble of trapping me within a ring of fire, and you do not even recognize me? Me? With my face plastered on every wanted poster from here to Castle Bay?¡± Oralia threw her arms wide and spun around in the sort of overdramatic display that would normally make her shudder. She dragged the toe of her right boot into the muck as she did so. The results weren¡¯t a perfect ring, but she didn¡¯t think a seer¡¯s trap required perfection in order to work.

    Oralia pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. ¡°What is the point of being infamous if no one recognizes you?¡±

    The confusion angle was working. The sneer slipped from Grettie¡¯s curled lips as she attempted to piece together what was going on. ¡°Am I supposed to know who you are?¡±

    ¡°Yes! I thought that was why you and your gang were chasing me.¡±

    ¡°We was chasing you to kill you and steal your things.¡±

    Oralia neatly stepped free of the seer¡¯s trap before sealing it with a final smudge of her foot. She didn¡¯t know whether the dark magic in her veins meant that she too could get caught within the rune, and held no desire to use this as an opportunity to find out. ¡°Are you telling me you do not recognize your own Protector of the Realm?¡±

    Grettie removed her finger from her nose and studied the contents trapped beneath her filthy fingernail.

    ¡°Former protector, I suppose.¡± Oralia folded her arms over her chest in the same manner she had seen Daana do countless times in the past. She had always found it a bit snobbish and hoped the bandit would think so as well. ¡°Before the whole traitor to the realm thing came into the light, of course.¡±

    ¡°I¨C¡±

    ¡°Are in the presence of an outlaw legend,¡± Oralia finished, helpfully. She peered down her nose at the smaller human, lifting one eyebrow higher than the other skeptically. ¡°Can you do something about the fire, by the way? It is getting unbearably hot in here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s kinda the point, actually.¡±

    ¡°This much smoke exposure cannot be good for the lungs.¡±

    ¡°Now see here!¡± Grettie took a challenging step forward. ¡°Stop trying to run this. I¡¯m in charge. Me! Not you. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± It was difficult to maintain her air of superiority when Oralia suddenly wanted to do nothing more than rip her clothes from her back. The temperature within the ring was bordering on sweltering. ¡°Now, how do you want to do this? I would rather skip the threats and move on to the part where I pay you handsomely to look the other way, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Grettie¡¯s scrutinizing eyes looked Oralia up and down before coming to a fast conclusion. ¡°You¡¯re not carrying any money. Not enough, that is.¡±

    ¡°Yes, because that would be incredibly impractical. The money is back at my camp, obviously.¡± Oralia challenged the bandit¡¯s stare with one of her own. After a moment of intense silence, she took things a step further. ¡°I am getting the impression that you are not the one in charge. Where is your leader? Perhaps I will have better luck with someone less¨C¡± she withdrew the word ¡®incompetent¡¯ and selected the slightly less insulting ¡°¨Cfiery.¡±

    ¡°Or I could just kill you as planned and then go find your camp. The rest of the crew are probably already pillaging it as we speak.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s bait was working. Had Grettie truly wanted her dead, the witch would have done so already. This was a dance Oralia had witnessed her faithful use when pressing their victims for information in the least obvious way possible. It was strange to be on the receiving end, but she was fairly certain she knew the steps well enough not to end in a raging inferno. If Oralia¡¯s hunch was correct, then Grettie was making sure there wasn¡¯t any additional information she needed to know before disposing of Oralia once and for all.

    ¡°Sounds as though you have it all figured out then,¡± Oralia said. ¡°Carry on.¡±

    Grettie squinted at her, seemingly aware a trap had been set but was unsure of where or when it was going to snap shut on her foot.

    ¡°For your sake,¡± Oralia muttered at a volume barely loud enough for the witch to overhear, ¡°I hope your leader is the merciful type.¡±

    ¡°Alright, enough whispering to yourself, orc. You either tell me whatever it is you¡¯ve got to say or I¡¯ll turn you to cinders right here.¡±

    ¡°You finding the money on your own would be quite a feat, considering I alone know where the chest is stashed. You do not just leave that sort of wealth sitting out in a saddlebag for all the world to see, after all. But if you are certain you can do it without me, all the best to you.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Tell me where it is then.¡± A slow smile spread across Grettie¡¯s soot covered face as a plan slowly unfolded behind her glassy eyes. ¡°And I¡¯ll let you walk away.¡±

    ¡°As tempting as that sounds, you will need me to lead you to it.¡±

    ¡°This just sounds like an overcomplicated plan to force me to keep you alive.¡±

    ¡°Well of course it does. That is exactly what it is. This is not the first time I have run into trouble on the road. When traveling with large sums of money, the easiest way to ensure your life is to make sure no one else knows where it is hidden. That way you always have a bargaining chip in the event you are forced to barter for your survival.¡±

    They stared at one another time for an unbearable stretch of silence. The broiling heat from the fire crackled and snapped at Oralia¡¯s back, causing a sheen of sweat to drip down her forehead. The air was thick and smoky, stinging the insides of her nostrils as the irritation crawled down her throat, clogging her airways.

    Finally, greed won over, lessening some of the fire raging behind Grettie¡¯s wild eyes. ¡°Fine! But we¡¯re doing this my way. Understand? No funny business. You make one wrong move and I cremate you on the spot!¡±

    And to think, just earlier that day, Oralia¡¯s biggest concern had been ensuring she returned to camp with Sascha¡¯s favorite pot. That seemed almost laughable now. Almost. Alas, the dark entity had been right about one thing. Sascha would not survive the heartache of losing both his favorite pot and his fuckmate on the same day. For both of their sakes, Oralia needed to do whatever it took to return to camp in one piece. Even if it meant playing prisoner to an unstable fire witch.

    She lifted her hands in compliance. ¡°Understood.¡±

 172 - Undeserving

    Red and orange flames burned bright against the surrounding sea of dark trees. The sweltering air within the burning ring was thick with smoke and ash. Hands still held aloft, unable to wipe the sheen of sweat that dripped down her brow and collected along the tips of her eyelashes, Oralia was forced to rely on blinking alone to clear her vision. It was working as well as was to be expected, which meant barely at all. Oralia persisted, ignoring the sting of ash against the exposed skin on her face as she kept her gaze locked on the scruffy witch across from her.

    ¡°First things first.¡± Grettie unslung the rusted dagger from her belt and gestured to the mossy forest floor. The oppressive heat was taking its toll on the plants within the circle. The sprawl of ferns and short grasses, once vibrant and fanned upright, were now wilted and bent towards the ground. ¡°Throw down that sword and any other stabbies you got on you.¡±

    Oralia unbuckled the sword belt from her hip and dropped it. She slid the weapon further away with her foot, hoping to put the fidgety witch at ease. Not like it mattered, anyway. A sword in the hand didn¡¯t make much of a difference when your opponent could incinerate you from a distance.

    ¡°Good, good,¡± Grettie said with a bob of her head, frizzy hair bouncing. The persistent twitch in her fingers seemed at odds with her confident smile. ¡°Now put your hands behind your head and get on the ground. Nice and slow like.¡±

    Oralia bent her knees and started to ease down, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the symbol etched into the dirt behind her. Even to the discerning eye, the seer¡¯s trap would be hard to spot.

    ¡°I said slow!¡± Grettie slashed the air with her rusted dagger for emphasis. ¡°And watch those hands! You even think of trying something, and I¡¯ll burn you to the ground without a second thought.¡±

    Moving at the speed of cold molasses, Oralia dutifully placed her hands on the back of her neck and slowly sank to the ground. She couldn¡¯t help but note that the dark entity writhing beneath her skin had gone suspiciously silent. It wasn¡¯t that she missed the additional voice, per se, but even the slightest distraction from the dread boring a hole through the bottom of her gut would have been appreciated.

    Oralia eased down onto her stomach. With her head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, she watched as Grettie edged closer, unraveling a coil of rope from her pocket as she did so.

    Five, four, three¡­

    Grettie¡¯s cautious footsteps sidled by, disappearing from Oralia¡¯s line of sight as the witch moved to secure her hands. Oralia remained still, heartbeat pounding within her ears as she controlled her breaths, slowly counting down the seconds as they ticked past.

    Two, one¡­

    Grettie stooped to loop the rope around Oralia¡¯s wrists the same moment the orc shot to her knees, throwing her head back with all of her might. The back of Oralia¡¯s skull struck Grettie¡¯s unprotected face with a soft crunch. Screaming, thrown off balance by Oralia¡¯s force, the witch stumbled backward into the awaiting seer¡¯s trap. The rune flared to life as a ring of red light shot skyward. Severed from Grettie¡¯s magic, the dancing ring of red and orange flames sputtered out.

    Oralia leapt awkwardly to her feet. She managed three steps before her balance gave out and she crumpled back onto the ground amongst the wilted ferns and grasses. Her lungs burned with each ragged breath as she clawed her way forward, dragging her disobedient legs behind her. The lack of clean air was wreaking havoc on her mind, jamming the inner cogs of wheels with the same smoky grime that was currently clogging her airways.

    She was nearly to the dark ring of scorched, smoldering earth when the seer¡¯s trap began to flicker. Oralia glanced over her shoulder, watching in terror as Grettie¡¯s magic overpowered the symbol. With one final flare, the seer¡¯s trap erupted in a plume of smoke and ash. Grettie¡¯s dark shape leapt free and charged in Oralia¡¯s direction, throwing her hands into the air above her head.

    Oralia flung her body into a roll, narrowly avoiding the burst of flame that incinerated the drooped groundcover in her wake. She crashed through a patch of wilted bracken as a blistering heat engulfed her right leg. Searing pain jolted up her thigh, traveling along the nerves straight to her brain. It struck like a kick to the teeth, clearing the mental fog from her mind.

    If nothing else, her undignified flailing served to extinguish the flames eating away at her pantleg. Her haphazard roll eventually came to an end and Oralia found herself hidden amongst a wild tangle of overgrowth. She moved onto all fours, using the thick blanket of smoke as cover as a trickle of energy returned to her weary bones. Eyes fixed on Grettie, Oralia steadily worked her way backwards.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    You won¡¯t make it if you run.

    Oralia ground her teeth together as she slunk further back. Whether it was due to sheer stubbornness or the fact that she detested the idea of listening to a predatory spirit hitching a ride inside her body, she vowed to do the exact opposite of what the entity wanted.

    Charge her.

    Dead, Oralia decided. The dark entity clearly wanted her dead! It was the only logical conclusion to such an asinine demand.

    You¡¯ll die if you don¡¯t.

    The nearest tree was only paces away. A few more seconds, that¡¯s all she needed, and then she would have the cover necessary to turn and run, using her second wind to carry her as fast and as far as her legs would go. Alas, unable to see where she was placing each foot, Oralia misstepped, inadvertently snapping a twig beneath her heel. The sound rang out like a beacon, drawing Grettie¡¯s attention. The witch¡¯s eyes narrowed as she whipped about, twitchy hands already poised for the killing blow.

    The dark entity¡¯s voice thundered across Oralia¡¯s thoughts. Charge her, now!

    Fuck it. She was dead anyway. She could at least try to take the witch out with her.

    Oralia surged forward and body slammed Grettie to the ground. Hot magic erupted against her skin. The snap of flames crackled and popped within her ears as bursts of color flashed across her vision. The dark magic beneath her skin flooded down Oralia¡¯s arms, cooling the blistering heat as it pooled into her hands. It was too much. The searing heat and blistering cold, intermixed with the crushing weight in her lungs as every ounce of energy drained from her limbs. Oralia¡¯s eyes rolled upwards, her surroundings nothing more than a smoky blur as her body went limp.

    She struck the ground, incapacitated by the waves of debilitating pain causing her chest to tighten.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Grettie was back on her feet, blood streaming from her broken nose, staring wide-eyed at her hands. The twitch in the witch¡¯s fingers was gone, replaced instead by a familiar inky darkness that wriggled like leeches beneath her paper-thin skin. Already, Oralia could see the infection had spread from Grettie¡¯s hands and was traveling up her scrawny arms.

    ¡°Was that supposed to weaken me, orc?¡± A maniacal grin spread across the witch¡¯s blood-smeared face. ¡°It barely hurt. In fact, I feel stronger than ever!¡±

    Grettie curled the fingers of her right hand and lifted it overhead. A blaze of fire shot skyward, nearly twenty feet in height, and engulfed the upper branches of the nearest tree.

    ¡°Oh shit! You see that, orc? You see what you did to me? Watch this!¡± She lifted both hands and a blaze of fire sprang up from the earth and encircled them once more. The dancing wall of flames was twice as tall as the last one. Clouds of smoke thick with ash and soot churned within the circle, blanketing the interior until the light filtering down from above was lost sight altogether.

    Oralia gasped for breath as Grettie stepped closer. The flickering red and orange flames illuminated the witch¡¯s dirty skin in an unnerving yellow glow. Her bloodshot eyes were wide and rimmed in white. From beneath her shirt collar, Oralia saw dark, branching tendrils snaking their way up Grettie¡¯s slender neck.

    Her voice was distorted, brittle and cracking along the edges like weather-worn paper. ¡°Now just wait to see what I do with you.¡±

    Grettie raised her hand once more. Red magic crackled down her arm and gathered in her fingertips. The magic built until it was blinding and then, without warning, flared black. The entity burst to life, spiraling back up Grettie¡¯s forearm in a plume of shifting darkness, consuming all in its wake.

    The sinister smile bled from Grettie¡¯s face as her laugh contorted into a scream. The witch¡¯s skin pulled taut as the muscle and flesh underneath turned to dust. Her face shifted in color from tan to white, to a sickly blue. With her withered hand still outstretched before her, the final scream faded from Grettie¡¯s hollowed mouth and her empty husk crumpled to the ground, disintegrating into a pile of bone and charred ash.

    The ring of fire went out in a puff of black smoke.

    Acid shot up Oralia¡¯s throat and pooled inside her mouth as she stared at what was left of Grettie. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

    Oralia heaved herself into a sitting position, coughing the burning particles from her lungs as she drew back her shirt. What she saw caused a second volley of acid to fill her mouth. The dark veins snaking along her collarbones were still there.

    The witch was an undeserving vessel. The entity¡¯s voice rippled across her panicking mind. Fit only for a quick meal. You and I are still intertwined, orc. As we will continue to be until you find me a vessel fit for service.

    ¡°But you transferred bodies. I felt it. I felt you leave¨C¡±

    I gave but a piece. You may not possess the magic I require to form a new body, but you are unusually resilient for an inferior being. You will continue to serve as my vessel until you are no longer useful to me.

    That had only been a piece. With only a sliver, the darkness had consumed the witch from the inside out in the blink of an eye. This time, when the nausea clawed its way up her tightening throat, Oralia gave into it. She folded over, retching the contents of her stomach onto the smoldering ground as her body trembled, helpless against the onslaught.

    Overcome with fear, Oralia didn¡¯t hear the voices calling out to her, or the hurried thunder of feet against the ground. From the corner of her eye, she saw two blurry forms break through the shifting blanket of smoke. They were shouting something, but their voices were distant and muffled, like a stranger calling from the bottom of a well. Oralia remained hunched over, barely cognizant of the pair of strong hands that seized her below the arms and dragged her from the smoldering ring of ash and death.

 Update - Short Hiatus (Will Be Back 3/12)

    First off, thank you to those that reached out via private message to check on me after Tuesday''s chapter. The community on here is amazing. I''m okay. Life has just thrown some curveballs I was not expecting this month and it has severely cut into my writing time.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    I''m going to take a short hiatus to handle some things. Chapters will start posting again next month on 3/12.

    Saturday''s chapter (2/24) will go up as scheduled. It''s already done, so I see no reason to hold it back while I get everything else sorted.

    As always, thanks for reading. :)

 173 - When Brothers Were Brothers and Blankets Were Blankets

    Rasp awoke from the strangest dream. Reuniting with Faris had been nice¨Ca bit bittersweet now that he was slowly starting to rouse and grasp the fact that it wasn¡¯t real, but enjoyable while it lasted. He still found the part involving the bear who was also somehow a sister rather confusing. All in all, it hadn¡¯t been the craziest dream he¡¯d ever experienced, just odd. An odd dream for an odd man, he supposed. Given the events of the past year, he wasn¡¯t sure he even knew what normal looked like anymore.

    Rasp¡¯s eyelids fluttered open and took in the muddled gloom around him. Nightfall, likely, given the absence of any light whatsoever. A cold wind rattled the dry leaves overhead. Normally he hated the sound as it meant another miserable night without the warmth of a fire, but the fur blankets strewn across his numb body were warding off even the fiercest chill. Lulled into complacency by the blissful warmth, Rasp tucked his chin back into his arms and closed his eyes. He was already drifting back asleep when a pesky thought wiggled its way to the forefront of his mind.

    You don¡¯t own any fur blankets.

    ¡°Hop!¡± Rasp shot upright. Tried anyway, as the pelt draped over him now felt less like a blanket and more akin to a furry boulder. A warm, furry boulder, with an inexplicable amount of fat and muscle bulging beneath its loose, shaggy skin. Rasp shoved with his hands, desperately trying to squirm out from under what he feverishly hoped wasn¡¯t a bear.

    His rough movements elicited a low growl from his stubborn blanket. Waves of vibrations rippled through the furry pelt and buzzed against Rasp¡¯s skin, similar to that of a giant, purring cat. He froze, not entirely from fear this time, but with a good mix of equal parts anger and confusion as well.

    ¡°Boney asshole?¡± Rasp repeated. While being able to understand the bear probably should have come as a shock, it was her response itself that bore the brunt of his bewilderment. ¡°Who taught you to name-call? That sounds like a painful medical condition, not an insult!¡±

    The bear lamented her woes with a low-pitched wine.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how growing up without a father applies in this scenario.¡± Rasp supposed he should have been grateful the bear wasn¡¯t trying to eat him. Would have been nice to be able to feel his legs though. He reached up and gave her a tentative pat, signifying his wish to tap-out before the suffocation set in.

    She did not appear to notice, preferring to air her grievances regarding her upbringing to a captive audience.

    ¡°Believe me, you didn¡¯t miss out on anything worthwhile. Our brothers are terrible.¡±

    Our brothers? Rasp wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d decided to go along with the sister story, but something about it felt unusually natural. Too natural, in fact. The lack of air was clearly getting to him. Gathering his heavy limbs, he pushed with both his hands and knees in a futile attempt to prevent the damn beast from smothering him. It was not going as well as he¡¯d hoped. ¡°Get. Off!¡±

    Finally, the unmovable weight lifted, allowing Rasp to scramble out from under it. He didn¡¯t make it very far before his wobbly legs gave out beneath him. Whipping his head from side to side, he gathered what limited information he could with his slow-moving senses. It was definitely nightfall, he was still in the forest, and¨Cjudging from the suspicious lack of commentary from either Hop or Faris¨Che and the bear might have been alone.

    Also, he was suddenly cold. So much so, he almost considered worming his way back under the bear. Pride won out, however, and he drew his arms over his chest and settled for a more dignified shivering instead. ¡°Where are the others? You didn¡¯t eat them, did you?¡±

    The bear huffed an incensed reply.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was insensitive of me, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Strange, stomach-churning noises were coming from the bear¡¯s direction. The series of wet pops and cracks were eerily similar to the time Mul dislocated his shoulder¨Cminus the screaming, of course. Rasp decided he didn¡¯t want to know, and carried on talking. ¡°How dare I accuse you of eating anyone. It¡¯s all a hurtful bear stereotype. Never mind the fact that you were eating a witch earlier.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t eating the witch!¡± A woman¡¯s voice roared back at him, sounding deeper and more gargled than it had any right to.

    Probably still mid-transition, Rasp supposed. He was caught between being grateful and somewhat remorseful that his poor vision prohibited him from witnessing the spectacle for himself. In the end, judging from the gruesome sounds, not being able to see was probably for the best. He didn¡¯t need to add anymore nightmare fuel to the steady fire already burning within his troubled thoughts.

    ¡°Look, we¡¯ve all dabbled in cannibalism from time to time,¡± he carried on. ¡°I accidentally swallowed a toe and you ate a witch¡¯s face off. I¡¯m not saying they¡¯re the same, but I get it. Sometimes your mouth is just in the wrong place at the wrong time.¡±

    ¡°Your mouth is about to be in the wrong place.¡±

    Rasp was about to tell her where she could put her mouth when the response withered on his tongue. The shapeshifter was under the false impression she was his sister. And while Juneberry was obviously mistaken, Rasp couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that incestuous jokes bordered a line even he didn¡¯t want to cross.

    ¡°Oh, come on. You were about to say something snarky, I can tell. Don¡¯t hold back on me now.¡±

    ¡°You never answered my question.¡± Gods, it was really saying something when it was him having to steer the conversation back on track. ¡°Where are the others?¡±

    ¡°Faris and that other fellow went to go collect your stuff. Said something about fetching a mule. I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s a euphemism for something, so I didn¡¯t question it.¡± The woman¡¯s voice grew louder as her footsteps approached. Rasp assumed she¡¯d finished shifting forms. For one, her voice sounded more human than it had before and, two, the oppressive smell of animal musk and fur was no longer trying to jam its way up his nose.

    Juneberry settled down onto the leaf-littered ground beside him, adding, ¡°Faris thought we would benefit from having a quiet moment to get acquainted.¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Rasp failed to see what for. Just because Faris was entertaining Juneberry¡¯s delusions didn¡¯t mean he had to follow suit. He tilted his head to the side instead, suddenly noticing the suspicious lack of squabbling. ¡°Did they take Father with them?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°The other raven.¡± Describing Father would have been a waste of effort as volatile and stabby were not generally linked with one¡¯s physical appearance. ¡°Loud? Abrasive? Rather pecky?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you mean the ¡®no good, dirty rotten, sad excuse of a man¡¯!¡± For whatever reason, Juneberry delivered the line without any malice in her voice, as if this was simply the way she¡¯d been taught to refer to her father. Rasp¡¯s wheezing laugh must have tipped her off that something was amiss because, after patiently waiting for him to compose himself enough to listen, she said with markedly less confidence, ¡°Do you suppose that¡¯s why he flew off in a huff earlier? I didn¡¯t mean anything by it. That¡¯s what Aunty always called him.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s great. Keep calling him that. He¡¯ll learn to love it.¡± If it wasn¡¯t such a mouthful, Rasp might have considered adopting it himself. But it was just so hard to beat the efficiency of ¡®rat bastard¡¯.

    ¡°Father left shortly after you passed out.¡± The way Juneberry said the name made it seem as if it was one she¡¯d not used with any sort of frequency before. ¡°I¡¯m sure he said where he was going but, between you and me, I¡¯ve never been around this many people before. Keeping track of who said what is really hard! Is it normal for everyone to talk on top of each other all the time?¡±

    Rasp stared straight ahead into the murky gloom as his former sense of mirth faded away. Truth be told, he wasn¡¯t all that interested in getting to know Juneberry. He didn¡¯t see the point. She wouldn¡¯t have a reason to stick around once learning they weren¡¯t actually related. ¡°In my family we just hit each other. Talking was for those who didn¡¯t know how to use their fists.¡±

    ¡°That sounds lovely. I can¡¯t wait to meet the rest of them.¡±

    It was time to shatter some realities, it seemed. ¡°Look, Juneberry¨C¡±

    ¡°Just June, is fine. Sounds like you¡¯re talking to a pie otherwise.¡±

    That definitely wasn¡¯t helping the ¡®you¡¯re not my sister¡¯ case Rasp was currently trying to make. ¡°I¡¯m grateful for you helping Faris find me and keeping him safe and all, but I think you¡¯ve got the wrong person. Just because you happen to have an equally shitty name doesn¡¯t make us kin. I¡¯m starting to think having unfit parents might be a universal thing.¡±

    In lieu of an intelligible reply, June crept closer. Dried leaves crunched beneath her knees as she leaned forward and placed both hands on either side of Rasp¡¯s face.

    It was strange being on the receiving end of unwanted physical contact for a change. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard twins sometimes have an otherworldly connection. Like they can talk to each other without using words. I¡¯m testing ours,¡± June explained as she adjusted her grip on his face. ¡°Can you feel anything?¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t think embarrassment was the answer she was looking for. Unrelated, Faris and Hop were going to get a serious talking to for daring to leave him in the company of a deluded bear-woman. Rasp slapped her hands away and sat straighter, deciding it was time to put his foot down. ¡°First of all, that¡¯s stupid. Secondly, we¡¯re not twins. My twin was a boy and he died at birth.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, that¡¯s just the story Mom told everyone,¡± June replied matter-of-factly. ¡°She made it up to keep both of us safe.¡±

    Lies and hearsay!

    Unable to refute June¡¯s claim without relying exclusively on every expletive in his vast repertoire of indecent language, Rasp settled for saying nothing at all.

    Alas, she continued the conversation regardless of Rasp¡¯s lack of involvement. ¡°In case you hadn¡¯t caught on, I¡¯m a shapeshifter. A bear, specifically. I shifted forms shortly after birth and gave Mom quite the scare when she found a cub in the cradle where her daughter should have been.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me, do you?¡±

    ¡°I do not.¡±

    ¡°We actually look a lot alike. Obviously you¡¯re the ugly twin, but the resemblance is there.¡±

    ¡°Insulting me isn¡¯t going to win me over.¡±

    ¡°Then maybe you could try asking thoughtful, adult questions instead of sulking like a baby, yeah?¡±

    Fuck, she sounded just like their mother¨Chis mother! Not theirs. Not yet anyway. Rasp slowly sank lower to the ground, feeling as if another life-shattering revelation was about to smack him across the face.

    As it turned out, thoughtful, adult questions were difficult to ask. June was alarmingly patient for someone who supposedly had the same hot-tempered Stoneclaw blood pumping through their veins. She explained her existence in the most digestible way possible and, in the end, with the help of small words and repeating her answers until they were hammered into his thick skull, Rasp felt he had a decent handle of the events circulating their birth.

    His mother¨Ctheir mother¨Cwas an underhanded, bold-faced, two-timing liar! And he loved her all the more for it.

    The best way to tell a convincing lie was to take the truth and twist it ever so slightly. Tal Stoneclaw had indeed bore twins during her sixth pregnancy. One boy, one girl and, for magical reasons, the girl became a bear several hours after birth. At that moment, Tal realized two things: baby Juneberry was magical, and her son Raspberry was irrefutably the sixth son born of a mighty Stoneclaw leader. In the name of stupid superstition, she feared both children would not be allowed to live.

    So Tal lied. She claimed the twins were male, but sadly one did not survive the first night. She had Juneberry whisked down the mountain and placed into the care of an estranged family member. While her husband, Paler Stoneclaw, may have been the head of the clan, Tal was the voice that whispered in his ear. ¡®The sixth son is dead so that the seventh can grow into the mightiest warrior the Stoneclaw clan has ever seen¡¯. And it worked, at least for a little while. Due to her quick thinking, Rasp¡¯s differences went unnoticed long enough for him to grow into adolescence.

    June, on the other hand, thrived. She was brought up in secret by their estranged aunt living just outside of the Mossborn territory. The pair kept squirreled away in the dark woods where the only people who could find her were the ones she wanted to. It was an ideal arrangement. Juneberry had all the room and support a fledgling shapeshifter needed to grow. In addition to teaching her to read, write, and all the survival skills necessary to survive on her own, Aunt Dagmar also passed on her love of magic and the true history of the Stoneclaw people.

    ¡°You¡¯re awfully quiet,¡± June remarked once the epiphany had had a chance to settle. ¡°You got all that?¡±

    He did, sort of. Rasp¡¯s stunned silence wasn¡¯t in the absorption of the information itself, but what it meant for him. As selfish as it was, learning he had a sister was trumped by the fact that irrefutable proof that he was the sixth son born of a mighty Stoneclaw leader, destined to bring death and destruction upon the world. While he¡¯d always had his suspicions, at least there had been a convenient layer of doubt to keep his fears his bay. The benefit of plausible deniability no longer applied now.

    He sat in stunned silence for a few awkward seconds, failing to notice the sudden draft that blustered the ends of his hair into his eyes. He pushed the bothersome strands back with his hand with a defeated sigh. ¡°I think so¨C¡±

    The sentiment was drowned out by the predatory growl that rumbled in the back of June¡¯s throat. She shot to her feet, snarling, ¡°You.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s only comfort was in the knowledge that June was not growling at him. ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°The blue porcupine from the mountain.¡± June raised her voice, calling out to someone further away. ¡°I know you¡¯re there, you little shit. I¡¯d know that smell anywhere. You¡¯re not spiking with your toxic quills this time!¡±

 174 - The Schemiest Schemers

    The hair-raising growl rumbling from the back of June¡¯s throat would have made an ordinary man turn and run. Rasp, alas, was not an ordinary man. And while unordinary was an apt description most days, he feared what he was about to attempt landed him squarely in ¡®stupid man¡¯ territory. He reached out, searching along the ground until he found June¡¯s bare foot beside him. He heaved forward, wrapping all four limbs around the trunk of her leg like an unruly child clinging to the equally unruly parent about to kick some ass at a children¡¯s stoolball game.

    June tried to shake Rasp from her leg. Other than rattling his brain a little, her attempts were largely unsuccessful. She settled for dragging him with her, one stubborn step at a time. She gritted out between clenched teeth, ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Preventing unnecessary death.¡± Rasp tightened his grip around her leg. He was surprised to feel the familiar scratch of wool trousers and not bare skin scuffing up the side of his face. June had done him the courtesy of donning clothes after changing forms. Thoughtful, but unnecessary. After all, he wasn¡¯t a prude like Faris. If it weren¡¯t for the bitter cold, Rasp was certain his people would have done away with clothing altogether.

    Despite Rasp¡¯s admirable efforts, they were still moving at a speed too fast for his liking. He dug his heels into the dirt to further impede June¡¯s progress. ¡°In case I wasn¡¯t clear, it¡¯s your death I¡¯m preventing!¡±

    ¡°My death?¡± June ceased dragging Rasp¡¯s ass across the bumpy terrain. The air of incredulousness in her voice seemed to imply her hands had already gone to her hips. Better that than continuing towards her inevitable death, Rasp supposed. ¡°That blue porcupine may have gotten the jump on me before,¡± June said, ¡°but I¡¯m ready for it this time. Gonna make me a nice hat afterwards.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a porcupine, that¡¯s a fae.¡± Rasp raised his voice, for June¡¯s benefit, but probably not in the way she thought. ¡°A fae who wouldn¡¯t dream of smiting an unfamiliar human while their apprentice is clinging to her leg, I imagine!¡±

    Whisper¡¯s voice carried on the breeze towards them. ¡°You¡¯re right, because dreaming would be irrelevant. I could drop her from this distance regardless of your proximity.¡±

    ¡°But you won¡¯t, right?¡±

    Whisper¡¯s response was not so much words as it was an unintelligible grumble.

    At the very least, their interaction had June reconsidering her plans for a new hat. ¡°Hold up. You two know each other?¡±

    ¡°Intimately.¡±

    ¡°No, not intimately,¡± Whisper snapped. ¡°Don¡¯t say it like that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Whisper. They fancy themselves my mentor, when really it¡¯s me doing most of the teaching,¡± Rasp said. While June may have stopped uttering animalistic growls, that didn¡¯t convince him to release his grip on her leg just yet. He knew from personal experience the lengths a hotheaded Stoneclaw would go to settle a slight. ¡°Whisper, this is June. She¡¯s family. Don¡¯t be a dick.¡±

    Whisper¡¯s quills rattled back, promising nothing.

    At least his mentor wasn¡¯t throwing things. A good sign, all things considered. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve got introductions out of the way, I¡¯m interested to know how the two of you know each other.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Whisper replied.

    ¡°We do!¡± June insisted with a stomp of her foot that set an unpleasant rattle up Rasp¡¯s spine. ¡°I looked a little different last time, is all.¡±

    Whisper¡¯s silence was effective in communicating their absolute disinterest in the matter. With a huff, June¡¯s voice changed back in Rasp¡¯s direction, explaining, ¡°I was hunting on the ridge last summer when a freak flash flood struck, nearly sweeping me off the mountain. I was making my way to higher ground when I heard shouting and came across a faun trapped under a tree limb. Having grown up around Lonebrook, I knew of Faris even if he didn¡¯t know of me. I was in the midst of trying to rescue him when this one¨C¡±

    Rasp assumed from the jerk of her body, June was pointing accusingly in Whisper¡¯s direction. That, or giving the finger, both of which the fae definitely deserved.

    ¡°¨Cshowed up out of nowhere and started whipping toxic quills at me!¡±

    ¡°Did I?¡± Whereas Rasp would have expected confusion, defensiveness, perhaps even a tiny smidge of remorse, Whisper proved him wrong once more by sounding more amused than anything. ¡°I seem to recall a magic bear, not a woman.¡±

    ¡°I was the bear! And whatever you hit me with knocked me on my ass for three days! By the time I awoke, all the chaos had already ended! There was no one left on the mountain. It was very confusing.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s eyebrows lifted. Not in reaction to what June had said, but what his mentor wasn¡¯t saying. ¡°Magic bear?¡± he repeated. ¡°Whisper, you knew she had magic?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Just as I could tell you had magic the first time we met.¡±

    ¡°And you still attacked her?¡±

    ¡°You say that like it surprises you, little bird. I was under the impairment of severe iron poisoning and I needed Faris to get to you. I simply didn¡¯t have time to deal with any other distractions so I made the distraction go away.¡±

    The taut muscles in June¡¯s leg relaxed. Rasp suspected her will to fight had deflated along with her pride. Not without getting the last word, of course. ¡°I could have helped.¡±

    ¡°Considering your version of helping involved trying to rescue a prey species whilst in bear form, I maintain that I made the correct decision.¡± Whisper¡¯s soft footsteps tentatively approached. ¡°Her magical signature is similar to yours, little bird. You mentioned family, but there is a resemblance that would suggest this one is more than just a Stoneclaw.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m his sister.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating.¡± Whisper¡¯s curiosity got the better of them and the small fae scuttled closer. Still clinging to June¡¯s leg, Rasp felt Whisper press past him as they poked and prodded at the very human they¡¯d intended to kill only moments ago. ¡°Your magic is markedly more controlled than his. Were you dropped on your head less as a child?¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Heat stung the tip of Rasp¡¯s nose. ¡°What happened to not being a dick?¡±

    ¡°Asking innocent questions does not make one a dick, little bird. Wishing aloud that you had been brought up under the same circumstances as your sibling, thus allowing you to have a competent grasp on your abilities and therefore decreasing my workload, would be dickish. I said nothing to that effect.¡± To add insult to injury, Whisper delivered this with a patronizing pat to Rasp¡¯s head. ¡°I only thought it.¡±

    Rasp was debating whether a fae hex would be worth snapping Whisper¡¯s fingers off with his teeth when the sounds of approaching footsteps spared him from yet another stupid decision. Still clinging to June¡¯s leg, he felt her upper body shift in the direction of the oncoming commotion. ¡°Oh, hey look. They¡¯re back. And there was a mule.¡± June rapped her knuckles against the top of his head in a manner that was probably meant to come across as friendly. Felt mostly painful, though. ¡°Guess it wasn¡¯t a euphemism, after all.¡±

    Faris sounded remarkably similar to a parent who¡¯d just walked in on a roomful of children caught painting the walls with jam. ¡°What in the gods¡¯ names are you doing?¡±

    Rasp decided now was as good of a time to let go of June¡¯s leg as any. Well, actually, several minutes prior would have been better, but that ship had already sailed. He untangled himself from his sister and scooted away. ¡°Saving lives, Faris! What¡¯s it look like?¡±

    ¡°...Not that?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not that,¡± Hop agreed.

    Rasp threw his hands in the air. ¡°Oh shut up!¡±

    Rasp wasn¡¯t the only one upset by the pair¡¯s unannounced arrival. The wind whipped overhead, stirring the blanket of dried leaves from the forest floor in a flurry of crinkly movement. ¡°Faun,¡± Whisper greeted Faris with no warmth in their voice whatsoever. ¡°I should have known you were behind this.¡±

    Faris mirrored Whisper¡¯s enthusiasm. ¡°Oh look, Rasp still hasn¡¯t managed to kill you yet. Impressive.¡±

    ¡°Why are you here?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m here?¡± Faris countered. ¡°For him, obviously.¡±

    Well this certainly was a rare treat. In the past, the only people who¡¯d ever fought over Rasp were those seeking to kick his ass. And while both Whisper and Faris wanted something from him¨Cbe it awakening their magical egg or simply for the sake of friendship¨Cit was rather nice knowing the end result wouldn¡¯t be a beatdown for a change. Not for him, anyway. Based on the severity of their dislike for one another, there was a good chance the pair would be at each other¡¯s throats in no time.

    ¡°June, right?¡± Hop stammered, acutely aware of the sudden tension hanging over their heads. ¡°Do you think you could assist me with something? Away from here, preferably.¡±

    ¡°And miss the action?¡±

    ¡°Yes, actually. That was the point. I was trying to be discreet, but I can see how that may have been misguided of me.¡±

    ¡°No way. This is just getting good,¡± June grunted. ¡°Take Rasp.¡±

    ¡°I got the idea that he needs to be here for this. Unlike you and I, who could be anywhere else right now. Far, far away, ideally.¡±

    ¡°You can go, June,¡± Faris said. ¡°I know how to handle myself.¡±

    ¡°Handle yourself? Is that what we¡¯re calling running and screaming nowadays?¡±

    The telltale thump of Faris¡¯s hoof striking the dirt rang out. ¡°Will you go already?¡±

    Hop, fortunately, was well versed in the art of getting stubborn Stoneclaws to fall in line without the need for superfluous hoof stomping or ear fluttering. ¡°Have you ever had a corn cake?¡±

    ¡°Corn cake? What¡¯s a corn cake? Is it food?¡± June perked up at the idea. Her footsteps were fast and light, already pitter-pattering off in Hop¡¯s direction, mirroring the sudden eagerness in her tone. ¡°Please tell me it¡¯s food. Shapeshifting is such strenuous work and I¡¯m always so hungry. Faris is a stickler for rations.¡±

    June¡¯s voice faded in the distance as the pair moved away, affording those remaining the privacy needed to hash things out. Rasp found himself conflicted. On the one hand, he knew he had to stay and help smooth over whatever altercation was about to take place between Whisper and Faris. But, at the same time, the other hand promised corn cakes. What rightfully should have been his corn cakes.

    And yet, the other-other hand, the third, oftentimes forgotten hand, insisted he could do both. Surely Faris and Whisper wouldn¡¯t kill each other in the few, short minutes it took to secure a bite to eat while they got all of their pleasantries out of the way.

    ¡°Not you,¡± both Faris and Whisper said together the moment Rasp started to gather his feet beneath him.

    Rasp settled back down with a groan. ¡°You know why you two hate each other? Because you¡¯re too much alike!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t compare me to this psychopath.¡±

    ¡°At least this psychopath isn¡¯t stupid!¡± Whisper shot back. The agitation in the fae¡¯s voice was damn near palpable. ¡°Every competing power in the United Territories is scouring the countryside for the little bird right now. You know that, yes? You could have led any number of enemies right to us!¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t need me for that. You two have been leaving a nice trail of destruction in your wake wherever you go.¡± Twigs and leaves crunched under hoof as Faris drew closer, his voice growing markedly louder as the gap between them diminished. ¡°And yes, I am very much aware every power in the territories is out to get Rasp. You want to know how I know that? Because Geralt Lazuli placed a mucking bounty on my head! I¡¯ve spent the last two months on the run because suddenly everyone wants to use me to get to the realm¡¯s most powerful witch!¡±

    Aw, Faris thought he was the most powerful. That was almost as flattering as it was sad.

    ¡°And that¡¯s not the half of it,¡± Faris continued. ¡°I managed to slip Geralt¡¯s snare, so he set his sights on my village instead. He¡¯s got the place locked down, no one in, no one out, trying to lure me home.¡±

    A sudden hurt struck Rasp square in the chest. ¡°Mom and dad?¡±

    ¡°Alive and well, last I heard. But I¡¯m not sure for how much longer. Which is why I need you to come back with me before that changes.¡±

    Rasp did not claim to be a brilliant strategist by any stretch, but even he saw the obvious holes in such a plan. ¡°...Wouldn¡¯t Geralt be expecting that?¡±

    ¡°As I said before, stupid,¡± Whisper agreed with a disapproving tsk. ¡°That is exactly what Geralt Lazuli is expecting you to do. I haven¡¯t spent the last four months keeping the little bird out of enemy hands just to let you run headlong into a trap with him. Forget it, faun. It¡¯s out of the question.¡±

    ¡°Rasp doesn¡¯t need your permission,¡± Faris argued.

    Whisper said something cutting in return and two voices rose in volume as tempers flared, leaving Rasp to ponder an alternative that could save his adopted family whilst skirting Geralt¡¯s trap. ¡°You know what they wouldn¡¯t be expecting?¡± he said, slowly, still piecing the ideas together. ¡°Me and a wind shifter.¡±

    ¡°Do you know why they wouldn¡¯t be expecting that, little bird? Because it¡¯s assumed the wind shifter is too intelligent to go along with something that idiotic!¡±

    ¡°Faris¡¯s family is my family too. And whether you approve of it or not, I¡¯m going to help them. So if you want to keep me around to hatch your egg, then you¡¯d better find a way to make it work.¡±

    There was an uncomfortable pause before Whisper muttered out of the corner of their mouth, ¡°It¡¯s not an egg.¡±

    Un-fucking-believable. Him, the king of petty squabbles, was having to act as referee to his betterers. Rasp should have been stuffing his face hole with a hot corn cake right now, not playing peacemaker! ¡°I meant what I said earlier,¡± he replied. ¡°You two are the same. The schemiest schemers I know. For the gods¡¯ sakes, put your differences aside and figure something out! If I have to form a plan all on my own we¡¯re as good as dead. And then you both would look like idiots.¡±

 175 - A Final Deal

    The forest giants swayed overhead in a symphony of quaking leaves and groaning boughs. Without light, Rasp had no way of telling what either Faris or Whisper were doing. The severe lack of angry pacing painted its own picture within his mind. He envisioned the pair staring the other down, face-to-face, seconds from verbally ripping into one another all over again.

    It was Faris who conceded his silence. With a full-body sigh, the faun bit back his anger and extended the proverbial olive branch in a manner that almost sounded sincere. ¡°What¡¯s this about an egg?¡±

    Naturally, Whisper¡¯s first instinct was to set the olive branch on fire. ¡°Nothing. It doesn¡¯t concern you.¡±

    ¡°Whisper,¡± Rasp groaned, running a heavy hand over his face, ¡°do you really want the explanation to come from me? I mean, really-really? Because if that¡¯s the case, I¡¯m going to make it as uncomfortable for you as possible. Lots of intimate details, if you catch my drift.¡±

    The fae rattled their quills so fiercely, Rasp swore he felt the aftershock thrum within his achy bones. Threat or not, at least it got them talking. Sort of. ¡°It is not an egg.¡± A second glare from Rasp managed to extract further information from Whisper in the most insulting way possible. ¡°The little bird calls it that because it¡¯s the closest comparison he can wrap his feeble mind around. It is an unawakened of my kind.¡±

    ¡°A baby, you mean?¡± Faris said.

    Whisper¡¯s tone seemed to suggest the use of ¡®baby¡¯ was only slightly more tolerable to ¡®egg¡¯. ¡°Essentially.¡±

    ¡°Great, glad we got one thing clarified. Now tell me what does that have to do with not saving my village?¡±

    Whisper, once more, took their sweet time saying nothing at all, prompting Rasp to fill in the necessary blanks. ¡°Because it¡¯s the only egg left of their species and Whisper lost it. We¡¯ve been running up and down the whole countryside for months looking for it. Whisper¡¯s under the impression it¡¯s amongst a collection of magical artifacts, which may or may not be located in the military settlement not far from here. Owned by Geralt Lazuli, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Faris said with a groan.

    Rasp tilted his head in Whisper¡¯s direction, flashing a threatening smile. ¡°See how easy that was? That¡¯s what you should be doing. Not me.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t sure at what point he¡¯d managed to break Whisper but, at last, with one final quill rattle, the fae stopped being a stubborn stick in the mud and offered something actually useful. ¡°Today¡¯s scouting mission confirmed that the artifact is indeed within the settlement. I wasn¡¯t able to breach the tower it¡¯s being housed in, but I could feel it calling to me.¡± Whisper¡¯s irritated voice shifted to Faris, explaining, ¡°I need the little bird¡¯s help to awaken it once it¡¯s been recovered. Which is why I cannot risk losing him to one of Geralt¡¯s traps.¡±

    The answer seemed fairly obvious to Rasp. ¡°Then we break into the settlement, steal the egg, and then go save Faris¡¯s family. There, solved.¡±

    ¡°It is not a task to be taken lightly, little bird. The artifact is being safeguarded against fae magic. Due to the nature of the charms, I am unable to step foot within the tower walls. I would need someone of the magical variety who is unaffected by both iron and silver in order to do so on my behalf.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but I can still do it.¡±

    ¡°For your sake, I hope that was a misguided jest. I should not have to state the many obvious reasons as to why that would not work.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Rasp rolled his eyes. So many stipulations. It was as if Whisper didn¡¯t actually want the job done. ¡°Faris and I can do it.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for not being clearer. While you and the faun could breach the tower without harm, neither of you would not be able to locate the object itself. It is a magical artifact, under the guise of glamour, being stored in a vicinity filled with every other sort of magical artifact imaginable. The sheer abundance of power would overwhelm your magic sensitivity beyond repair, little bird. Provided you didn''t touch something cursed that killed you first.¡±

    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that you need an expert. A whole team, from the sounds of it,¡± Faris said. ¡°Do you know how long it would take for you to assemble one? A proper one? Weeks, if not months. I don¡¯t have that kind of time.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± Whisper agreed. ¡°But I do.¡±

    ¡°Except you¡¯re not great at dealing with people. I am. Come back to free Lonebrook and, once it¡¯s done, I¡¯ll help you assemble the best gods damn specialists money can buy.¡±

    ¡°But¨C¡±

    Whisper barely got a word out before Faris cut them off. ¡°No. It¡¯s your turn to listen and hear how stupid you¡¯re being for a change. You get one chance at recovering your egg. If you fail, Geralt will know someone¡¯s discovered his hoard. Which means he¡¯s going to bring half his army down here and move it again. You can¡¯t afford that possibility. You¡¯ve found your artifact and it¡¯s safe. It¡¯s not going anywhere. We take care of my crisis first and then we¡¯ll fix yours.¡±

    Whisper said nothing, resigned to their hostile silence. The wind whipping overhead was enough of an indication to prove that, even if they didn¡¯t like what Faris was saying, the faun was arguing sense.

    ¡°You know Rasp is going to come with me anyway,¡± Faris persisted. ¡°You might as well ensure he comes back in as few pieces as possible.¡±

    The wind whipped harder as Whisper¡¯s fury doubled. ¡°As my apprentice, he is to accompany me until I have released him from service. That was our contract that he and I agreed upon. If I don¡¯t go, then neither does he.¡±

    Rasp had only one card left to play. Ideally, he¡¯d planned to hold onto it, squirrel it away until the absolute last moment, but it appeared as if the moment had come to reveal his winning hand. ¡°If Faris doesn¡¯t get his family back, then neither do you.¡±

    The wind dropped without warning. ¡°Come again?¡±

    ¡°You just said so yourself. Our deal stated I was to be your apprentice. Agreeing to help awaken your egg was never part of the original contract.¡±

    ¡°¡®I vow to find a way to give you the happy ending you deserve,¡¯¡± Whisper quoted back at him. ¡°That¡¯s what you told me only last night.¡±

    A saner man would not have laughed at a fae to their face. As unhinged and stupid seemed to go together like butter and toast, Rasp did so with great relish. ¡°That¡¯s the thing, though. What I said and what you think I said are two different things. I could have been flirting with you for all you know.¡±

    Unable to argue with Rasp¡¯s surprisingly sound logic, Whisper switched tactics, the edge of their voice fraying ever-so noticeably. ¡°You don¡¯t even want your magic!¡±

    ¡°But you do.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± For the first time in ever, the fae appeared to be at an actual loss for words.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Rasp considered offering a patronizing pat to the side of Whisper¡¯s scaled face. Alas, with darkness making it damn near impossible to pinpoint the fae amongst the gloom, it wasn¡¯t worth the risk of accidentally pricking himself on one of their quills again. Rasp settled for a shit-eating grin instead. ¡°I may not be the brightest, but I pick up things along the way. A good fae contract is supposed to be watertight and you overlooked several holes in yours.¡±

    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± Whisper said, finally.

    ¡°I know, look at me, learning shit. Who would have thought?¡±

    Rasp felt a scaled hand grip his shoulder and pull. ¡°We need to speak in private. Now.¡±

    Whisper wasn¡¯t physically strong enough to drag him anywhere, but Rasp sensed this was one of those times that it would be better to go along willingly. He stood and Whisper¡¯s grip shifted from his shoulder to his elbow, still pulling with the desperation of a leashed dog set on being the first to piss on the tree in the yard.

    ¡°Rasp,¡± Faris said, voice laced with unease, ¡°are you sure about this?¡±

    Fuck no. Everyone knew you weren¡¯t supposed to waltz hand-in-hand with a psychopathic fae into the dark woods at night. But Rasp also knew that whatever Whisper was about to tell him likely couldn¡¯t be said in front of Faris. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Dingle. I¡¯ll scream for you if I need anything, alright?¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡±

    Faris really wasn¡¯t letting this one go. Probably best to put his fears at ease. ¡°I¡¯m sure. In fact, go start packing your bags. I have a feeling we¡¯ll be on our way back to your village in no time.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any bags to pack, but I appreciate your confidence.¡±

    ¡°Well you should go get some bags then. And a few cute outfits too. A splash of color, maybe? You know, something to bring out the adoration for me in your eyes.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t see my eyes!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the thought that counts, Dingle,¡± Rasp called over his shoulder as Whisper pulled him away. They walked for a short ways¨Csome more effectively than others as Rasp did quite a bit of tripping. Eventually, the pair reached a suitable distance away and Whisper halted. And then they just stood there in awkward silence glaring at one another. At least that¡¯s what Rasp assumed they were doing. Short of reaching out and touching Whisper¡¯s face, he had no real way of knowing what sort of expression was curled across their ugly mug.

    ¡°Is this really what you want, little bird?¡±

    ¡°You mean saving Faris¡¯s family?¡± Want probably wasn¡¯t the word he¡¯d use to describe it. Need to do, morally obligated to do, would never forgive himself if he stood back and did nothing? Yes, a thousand times over. Want? No. Nobody wanted to run headlong into a trap designed specifically to capture and use you against your will. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Whisper demanded.

    ¡°What do you mean why? You¡¯re doing the same thing, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re risking your neck to ensure the fate of your people. It¡¯s not any different than what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    ¡°These people are not your own. They¡¯re not even the same species!¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So?¡± Whisper repeated, voice raising several octaves in indignation. The wind picked up again, ripping through the quaking treetops overhead for several seconds before it stilled, along with Whisper¡¯s temper. When the fae spoke again, they sounded as though a few deep breaths had done them some good. Their tone was calmer, more collected, less likely to kill Rasp on the spot. ¡°I do not like this, little bird.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s stupid and reckless.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Rasp waited patiently for Whisper to add the inevitable ¡®you are stupid and reckless¡¯.

    ¡°But your loyalty to those you consider kin will always be the driving force in your life. It is, in some ways, commendable. Stupid nonetheless, but commendable.¡± There was another reluctant pause before the fae added, ¡°I will not stop you. If this is what you need to do, then so be it.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°However¨C¡±

    Ah, the catch. Rasp had known to expect one.

    ¡°¨Cif you want my help, which you will undoubtedly need if you expect this venture to not go up in flames, then I will ask something of you. A trade, if you will.¡± Whisper waited for Rasp¡¯s resulting protest. His mentor continued speaking when it became abundantly clear that Rasp didn¡¯t intend to offer one. ¡°Your magic. You already agreed to gift some in order to awaken the youngling, but for this, I want all of it.¡±

    All of it? Rasp was caught between relief and suspicion. ¡°You said you didn¡¯t want to do that before.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t fair before. By taking all of your magic I would have been ridding you of a life extended beyond regular human years, of power, and influence. I could not ask that of you for nothing. And now I have something to offer. My help for your magic.¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t see a downside. A shorter lifespan, maybe. Not that it meant much. He¡¯d already exceeded everyone¡¯s expectations for how long he would live anyway. Besides, what good was a long life if he didn¡¯t have a weird faun family to share it with? Oh, and there was a bear now too. June seemed like she would make a lively addition to his list of furry relatives.

    Common sense dictated that he give life-altering decisions such as this extensive thought. Thus, Rasp waited at least ten seconds before agreeing. He offered his open hand in Whisper¡¯s blurry direction. ¡°Deal.¡±

    ¡°Deal?¡± The calmness drained from Whisper¡¯s voice. ¡°Just like that? No consideration at all to how this affects you?¡±

    A fine layer of confusion settled over Rasp¡¯s preexisting suspicion. ¡°Why are you so angry? You¡¯re the one who asked for it. Shouldn¡¯t you be happy?¡±

    ¡°No! I¡¯m not happy!¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re not thinking! I am asking for the most important piece of yourself and you¡¯re just giving it away without any forethought. This is how it starts. This is how people take advantage of you!¡± Whisper stomped off, their tiny footsteps slamming against the dried leaves as they paced back and forth, working themselves up into another frenzy. ¡°Why is it I¡¯m the only one who can see that? No matter what I say, how much I demand, you¡¯re not going to change, are you?¡±

    Rasp shielded his face from the flurry of leaves being stirred into the air by Whisper¡¯s tantrum. ¡°Why are you getting mad at me? It was your deal. I was only agreeing to it.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! You¡¯re blindly agreeing to something without considering what it means for your future. After everything I¡¯ve taught, you¡¯re still thinking with your heart and not your brain!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why that¡¯s a problem.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re going to end up the same as them if you don¡¯t stop!¡±

    ¡°Them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, them! Like you, they were too blind to see the greed of mortal-kind.¡± Whisper¡¯s restless pacing lost some of its vigor. ¡°They gave and gave, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. And it cost them everything. As it will you.¡±

    The dots were starting to connect within Rasp¡¯s mind. Whisper wasn¡¯t mad at him. Not entirely, anyway. ¡°I believe you when you say it will cost me everything. The difference is I don¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°You should!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because!¡± Whisper hesitated, their voice marked with desperation as they searched for an answer Rasp could wrap his mind around. ¡°It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s not natural. It goes against self-preservation. Why would anyone give up everything for another?¡±

    Rasp lifted one shoulder in a hapless shrug. ¡°Stupidity?¡±

    The dried leaves fell back to the ground as Whisper issued a long, wearisome sigh. ¡°Sometimes I think you might be more like my people than I ever was, little bird. I have been the last of my kind for centuries and yet, I¡¯m beginning to realize that perhaps I¡¯ve always been alone.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I call bullshit.¡± Rasp stifled any ensuing argument with a wave of his hand. ¡°Are you a selfish, self-serving little prick? Absolutely. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Despite all that, you may not be giving up everything, but you are dedicating a substantial effort to bring your people back, no? I think that counts for something.¡±

    Whisper gagged at the implication, sounding like a cat with a hairball lodged in its throat.

    ¡°In fact, I think saving Faris¡¯s village presents a very unique opportunity for you. For the first time in ever, you could go against your conniving nature and help simply out of the kindness of your heart. You know, baby steps and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°Over my dead body.¡±

    Worth a shot, Rasp supposed.

    ¡°There is a fine line between generosity and allowing yourself to be robbed blind, little bird. Helping your family is noble. Walking headfirst into a trap in order to do so is the opposite of that. I would hate for you to lose everything in order to learn such a valuable lesson, so I will not take everything. Just your magic. If you want my help, my offer still stands.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not changing my mind.¡±

    ¡°I know. Which is why I need you to take this more seriously than you have anything else in your life. You are about to strike a fae contract. Once the deal is struck, the conditions are binding.¡±

    In that case, Rasp realized it was probably worth stating his conditions aloud. ¡°You will journey with us and use your power to spare Lonebrook and its people from destruction. In exchange, Faris will help you assemble a team to rescue your unawakened egg. Afterwards, my magic is yours. All of it.¡±

    Whisper¡¯s scaled hand grasped his and magic sparked between them, sealing the covenant.

 176 - Beneath A Sea Of Stars

    Consciousness slowly returned to Daana¡¯s body. The first thing she noticed was how the jolting gait beneath her lacked the smooth roll and sway of the ocean. Confused, Daana forced her heavy eyelids open and squinted at the pale light stretched above. Orange and pink clouds streaked across the sky like brushstrokes on a lavender canvas. The breeze tickling her nose was wrong as well. The familiar stench of salt and water rot had been replaced with the sweet undertones of fireweed and tundra grass.

    The cool night air stung the skin on her face, but the rest of her body was warm, wrapped tight in a mound of blankets. The warmth was placating, lulling her back into another dreamless sleep. Daana was already drifting off again when her hearing returned, transforming the low hum of background noise into distinguishable voices.

    ¡°Shh, Ellie, look. I think she¡¯s finally coming around. For real this time.¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s dry voice replied, ¡°And that requires us to be quiet because?¡±

    ¡°In case she tries to say something.¡± Ashwyn spoke notably lower, almost quiet enough to be considered a whisper¨Chad the loud orc any concept of what constituted a whisper. ¡°I want to be able to hear.¡±

    ¡°Should we hide and shout ¡®surprise¡¯ too?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t. She¡¯s a jumpy little thing. Might kill her. Probably best just to smile and wave.¡±

    ¡°For the gods¡¯ sakes, how about you two just don¡¯t do anything?¡± Daana recognized the third, scratchy voice as Snag¡¯s. It was coming from the opposite direction of the other two. ¡°Give her some space. Let her come around on her own, would ya?¡±

    Like a moth drawn to flame, Daana followed the voices, fighting the weariness that bogged her down. After several unsuccessful tries, she was able to keep her eyes open long enough for her blurred vision to clear. Tilting her head to the side, she found herself swaddled like an infant, lying on her back in what appeared to be the back of a small wooden cart.

    Cart.

    The word burned bright within her muddled thoughts as a swell of relief washed over her. Cart meant land. They¡¯d reached land! Overcome with joy, Daana tried to sit upright. To her credit, she got nearly halfway before her body remembered it was broken. Every muscle in her back seized tight in protest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Daana slumped back down, unable to scream.

    ¡°Maybe don¡¯t do that,¡± Ellisar said helpfully.

    Daana rolled onto her side, drawing her knees to her chest as she breathed through the waves of pain radiating from her lower back. Squinting through the hot tears pooling within her eyes, she could just make out Ellisar¡¯s and Ashwyn¡¯s respective shapes trailing behind the cart. ¡°Fuck,¡± Daana gasped between tightly clenched teeth. ¡°It hurts just to breathe. What did I break?¡±

    Everything? Definitely everything. It was the only explanation for the sheer agony coursing through her veins.

    ¡°Nothing important,¡± Snag assured her, his voice drifting down from above. He was bent over the back of the seat, staring back down at her. His expression, a combination of relief and concern, seemed to be at odds with itself. The creases around Snag¡¯s yellow eyes softened when he said, ¡°You¡¯re just beat up is all.¡±

    In that case, Daana hated to imagine what it felt like to break something important. ¡°Is everyone else okay?¡±

    ¡°Ashwyn lost her hand,¡± Ellisar said.

    Daana¡¯s stare shot back in their direction in time to see the orc¡¯s shoulders slump miserably. ¡°Why must you keep reminding me? Damn seagull swooped down and swiped it right out of my clutches! It was going to be your anniversary present, Ellie dear¡±

    ¡°Eh. Probably for the best. You know how I feel about handouts.¡±

    Ashwyn raised her hand to her forehead dramatically. ¡°My poor heart. It¡¯s been backhanded with your callous words.¡±

    The pair were acting stranger than usual. While lighthearted banter was commonplace for Ashwyn, it was rare for Ellisar to partake so willingly. Daana peered at the latter more carefully. The elf¡¯s normally pale face had a touch of color and there was a twinkle in her eyes Daana hadn¡¯t seen before. Was she¡­giddy? Dear gods, it looked downright unnatural.

    Daana twisted around, gritting at Snag through clenched teeth as stabbing pains rippled across her bruised rib cage. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with El?¡±

    ¡°She blew another hole in the Ducky Luck before jumping overboard. Been quite pleased with herself ever since.¡±

    Ellisar tilted her head up at the darkening sky with a dreamy expression on her face. ¡°Best night of my life.¡±

    Ashwyn promptly forgot all about her lost hand. ¡°The best night of your life, really? Nothing else comes to mind like, oh I don¡¯t know, a particularly passionate night with your wife, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°I recall we kissed quite passionately after I sank the ship.¡±

    ¡°I was resuscitating you!¡±

    ¡°And I came to beneath a sea of stars, with the flickering firelight of a sinking ship in the background and your beautiful face whispering sweet nothings in my ear.¡±

    ¡°I was screaming ¡®don¡¯t die, don¡¯t die, don¡¯t you fucking die on me¡¯.¡±

    ¡°As I said, best night of my life.¡±

    Daana¡¯s eyebrows furrowed together as the pieces of the night in question slowly emerged from the dark recesses of her mind. The effort resulted in a noxious stabbing sensation deep within her skull. She massaged her aching temples with her fingers, stammering, ¡°I-I remember the fire. Was it the powder charges that caused it? The rest is all a blur.¡±

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    The gathering grew suspiciously quiet. Daana glanced up in time to catch the nervous glance Ashwyn and Snag traded over the top of her head. The fact that neither was volunteering information even after getting caught was even more troubling. Gritting her teeth, Daana held a hand to her side and eased into a sitting position. Despite her attempt to take it slow, the change in elevation still made her head swim. She closed her eyes and waited for her vision to stop spinning before demanding answers.

    ¡°Alright, out with it,¡± she said. ¡°What is it you aren¡¯t telling me?¡±

    Snag and Ashwyn still had their eyes locked together, engaged in a silent conversation Daana hadn¡¯t been invited to. Their efforts to break the news gently were thwarted by Ellisar. ¡°You killed an air elemental by siphoning all their magic in a single go and then made it rain lightning fire from the sky,¡± the elf said nonchalantly. ¡°Hands down, the most impressive thing you¡¯ve ever done.¡±

    Ashwyn swiveled her head at her. ¡°Ellie!¡±

    ¡°What? I gave her a compliment. No mention of the spread, as requested.¡± Ellisar crossed her arms over her narrow chest triumphantly. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    Spread? Gripping her sleeve, Daana peeled the fabric away from her skin, unable to contain the startled gasp that leapt from the back of her throat. The black veins snaking up her arms had spread. It branched past the elbow, already halfway to her shoulder. A quick examination of her other arm proved the same.

    Panicked, Daana searched their faces for a sense of reassurance and found none. ¡°You¡¯re all looking at me like I¡¯m a sick puppy. It¡¯s bad, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°You were convulsing when we got you out of the water and onto the long boat,¡± Snag admitted. ¡°You should have been chilled to the bone after a dip in the ocean, but your skin was hot to the touch. I wasn¡¯t sure you were going to make it through the night.¡±

    ¡°How long have I been out?¡±

    ¡°Four days.¡±

    Ashwyn interjected with what was clearly forced cheerfulness. ¡°The good news is, while we didn¡¯t make our intended port, we made it ashore and are in the flatlands. A little further south than expected, but we made good progress while you were out. Traded the boat for a cart and are already halfway to our destination. If we keep going at this rate, we should reach your mother in three days¡¯ time.¡±

    That was good news, right? Her mother would have answers and maybe even a cure. Her mother who just happened to be a witch, surrounded by an army of witches, all with powerful magic. Magic Daana could siphon at any moment and use to destroy everyone without meaning to. The more she considered it, the more it was sounding less and less like good news.

    Ashwyn noticed Daana¡¯s dismayed expression. ¡°I know those marks seem like an impossible setback, Peaches. But your mother will have answers. Her people will have you fixed right as rain before you know it.¡±

    Daana drew her knees to her chest and slumped over them, wincing at the twinge of protest in her back. ¡°What if it doesn¡¯t work? What if she doesn¡¯t have answers? What if she takes one look at me and tells me to turn back around again?¡±

    ¡°Sounds about right,¡± Ellisar agreed.

    ¡°Ellie! Ashwyn hissed.

    ¡°Her mom¡¯s a bitch. There¡¯s no sense in telling her fantasies.¡±

    ¡°We all know what sort of high opinion you have of Larkspur. You never fail to bring it up at every opportunity.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯m saying maybe this is the opportunity not to bring it up.¡±

    ¡°Say, was that a rabbit I just saw?¡± Snag¡¯s nervous smile bordered on manic as the severity of his glare wilted the arguing pair into submission. ¡°Maybe you two should go do some hunting, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Ew,¡± Ellisar said, wrinkling her nose. ¡°Why? So you two can have another heart to heart?¡±

    ¡°El, so help me, another smart word out of you and I¡¯m gonna drive a stake through your heart.¡±

    ¡°Goddess, what I would do for a steak right now,¡± Ashwyn muttered wistfully. ¡°Almost as good as a hand. Except you can eat it.¡±

    Whereas Ashwyn was oblivious to the lethality of Snag¡¯s glare, Ellisar took note. In a rare show of compliance, she threaded her hand through Ashwyn¡¯s and pulled the orc off of the narrow, winding road and into the sea of swaying tundra grass. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s find you that steak. Let these two get all their touchy-feely shit out of the way.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re actually hunting, right? That¡¯s not some sort of euphemism? Because I might cry if you drag me all the way out there just to take your pants off.¡±

    ¡°Food first,¡± Ellisar said, disappearing into the grass. ¡°Then pants off.¡±

    Daana waited until the pair had disappeared from sight before gathering her leaden legs beneath her. The left side of the cart struck a bump, causing her to lose what little balance she had. Daana caught herself against the short wood siding, saving her battered body from a painful spill. She waited, allowing her equilibrium to return, before swinging one leg up and over the back of the driver¡¯s seat. It was tedious work. She could feel Snag¡¯s concerned gaze watching her the entire time, but he kept his reservations to himself. A fact she was grateful for.

    Finally, breathless, convinced her bones had turned to jelly from four days of unuse, Daana settled triumphantly onto the hard seat beside him.

    ¡°Do I want to know what you¡¯re doing?¡± he said after a moment of awkward silence.

    ¡°Sitting.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that logic.¡±

    ¡°I feel like you, of all people, could,¡± Daana replied.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. But I won¡¯t.¡± Snag clutched Wormy¡¯s reins as though he was afraid they would rip out of his gnarled hands. The shaggy horse clomped along ahead of them, tail swishing back and forth without a care in the world.

    Overcome with exhaustion, Daana slumped over and rested her head against Snag¡¯s bony shoulder. She half expected him to shove her off, but he didn¡¯t. The goblin only clutched the reins all the tighter as some of the lovely green color drained from his pained face.

    The pale lavender sky stretched on overhead, steadily giving way to the inky blackness spreading from the east. The sun was low. The last of its brilliant orange rays caught the edges of the clouds, making them appear more gold than gray. A sea of tall grasses spread up and over the undulating hills on either side, as far as the eye could see.

    For the first time in weeks, Daana felt like an animal set free of its cage.

    As she took in the cool evening air, listening to the distant calls of the crickets and frogs, she recalled how her freedom had not come so freely. The weight in her chest grew heavier at the realization that the greatest cost had yet to be paid. Daana had never known family, not in any traditional sense anyway. And now, days away from reuniting with her own flesh and blood, something screamed at her to turn back. She¡¯d forged her own bonds and the thought of closing that chapter of her life in order to start anew suddenly felt like a fate worse than death.

    Snag would be fine without her, she was certain of that. She just wasn¡¯t sure if the reverse was true. Blinking the tears from her eyes, Daana swallowed the grief building within her throat and resolved to make the most of the time she had. She rode the rest of the night with her head bouncing against his shoulder, savoring the sounds of the night, as remorse clawed at the back of her mind like a cat begging to be let back into its cage.

 177 - The Great Larkspur Denari

    For three days Daana¡¯s company traveled along the winding dirt road. The flatlands stretched around them in an endless expanse of yellow and tan tundra. The days were warm and the nights were cool, harried by a relentless wind that swept from the south, filling the air with the constant quiver of dry grass.

    It was well after sunset. A dense blanket of charcoal gray clouds stretched overhead as far as the eye could see. The moon, a waning sliver of pale light, glowed faintly in the distance, obscured by the overcast sky. Given the late hour, Snag normally would have called it quits and settled down somewhere off the road, but on this particular night he kept going. It wasn¡¯t until they crested a particularly steep hill that Daana realized why. A settlement sat nestled in the shallow valley below, made up of hundreds of clay houses surrounded by a curtain wall of solid stone. Firelight from within the huts poured through the square windows, illuminating the settlement in a warm, homey glow.

    Daana sat wrapped in a blanket in front of the cart with Snag. The goblin¡¯s gaze was not focused on the town itself, but the sea of tents encircling the settlement walls. Orange and yellow campfires dotted the dark landscape like stars in a clear dark night. ¡°Don¡¯t like the looks of that,¡± he murmured, left ear twitching, filling the air with the soft, metallic jangle of hooped earrings. ¡°You¡¯re all seeing this too, right?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Ashwyn gave a low whistle of approval as she moved to stand alongside Wormy. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know better, I would say Larkspur has amassed herself an army.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s our cue.¡± Ellisar looped her arm through Ashwyn¡¯s and started back down the winding dirt path, calling over her shoulder as she did so, ¡°Daana, it¡¯s been terrible. You¡¯re home safe now. Our part in this is done.¡±

    Ashwyn slid her arm free with practiced ease. ¡°My goddess, Ellie. We¡¯ve come all this way. The least we can do is introduce the poor girl to her mother.¡±

    ¡°Daana defeated the dark entity! Escaped Geralt¡¯s clutches! Burned Alkurth to the ground with a flick of her fingers! She needs no introduction.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡± Daana feigned surprise. ¡°That¡¯s what, two compliments in almost as many days? Ellisar, I fear you must be losing your edge.¡±

    ¡°You wore me down. Congratulations.¡± Ellisar hooked her fingers through the back of Ashwyn¡¯s belt and continued her futile pulling. ¡°Goodbye.¡±

    Despite Ellisar¡¯s increasingly desperate attempts to usher her along, Ashwyn remained where she stood. The harsh lines around her eyes softened as she twisted her upper body in order to gaze back at Ellisar. ¡°This is because you don¡¯t want to see Larkspur, isn¡¯t it? I was really hoping that after all of this time, you would have set your bad blood aside.¡±

    ¡°She got us captured. And instead of taking any of the blame, she let us stand trial in her stead! And don¡¯t get me started on the fucking ship.¡± Ellisar ceased her struggle and spun around. Her eyes lacked the fire laced within her words. ¡°Before the Fall was the closest thing I had to a child and she fucking sank it!¡±

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t even onboard when it sank,¡± Ashwyn reminded her.

    ¡°Well it would have been better for us all if she had been!¡±

    ¡°You did love that ship.¡± The orc tapped her chin as she considered a solution that would appeal to them both. ¡°Look, if you would rather stay out here with the cart, that¡¯s perfectly fine. I¡¯ll pop in, say hello, and then I¡¯ll be out again before you know it.¡±

    ¡°You said the same thing on our honeymoon. Next thing I knew, we were smuggling a cargo load of escapees across the border.¡±

    ¡°That was one time.¡±

    ¡°It was twelve!¡±

    A pearly smile split across Ashwyn¡¯s tusked face. ¡°Made for an unforgettable honeymoon, no?¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s sour expression agreed for entirely different reasons.

    ¡°I¡¯d like it stated for the record that I¡¯ve been free a total of twenty-nine days now and I have volunteered us in exactly zero causes, no matter how noble they might¡¯ve been. If you don¡¯t trust me, then you¡¯re welcome to act as my escort.¡± When Ellisar¡¯s fixed expression refused to budge on the matter, Ashwyn started off without her, gesturing for Daana to follow. ¡°Come on, Peaches. Let¡¯s go spring a surprise family reunion on your mother.¡±

    Daana clambered down from the cart, glancing up at Snag as she did so. ¡°Are you coming too?¡±

    Snag remained seated on the driver''s bench, wearing an expression nearly identical to the one stretched across Ellisar¡¯s face. He shook his head no. ¡°As much as I would love to traipse through the middle of an unknown army to meet the elf who¡¯s daughter I sold to her worst enemy, I think it¡¯s best that I stay with the horse, thank you.¡±

    Daana¡¯s heart felt as if it¡¯d been yanked from her chest and stomped on. ¡°You won¡¯t leave without saying goodbye, right?¡±

    His ears flattened against the back of his head as he peered down his nose at her. Despite Snag¡¯s best efforts, a smidge of sadness managed to leak through. Not in his words, of course, which remained as stubbornly apathetic as ever. ¡°I won¡¯t now, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Good. Because I¡¯d never forgive you if you left before I could give Wormy a hug and kiss.¡± Daana started off down the hill after Ashwyn, noting from the corner of her eye that Ellisar slunk along behind them with slow, reluctant footsteps.

    Swaying rows of cotton grass flanked either side of the winding path that led to the front gates. Daana drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders as they followed it past row after row of wedge-shaped tents and into the heart of the encampment surrounding the settlement. The trio¡¯s passage did not go unnoticed. Several figures clad in leather armor stood and watched their progress, content to let them pass in peace. It wasn¡¯t until they reached the gates that anyone bothered to speak to them.

    A guard appeared at the top of the gatehouse wall, holding a lantern aloft as they peered down at the trio assembled below. Their greeting was as painfully generic as the giant wood and iron doors barring Daana¡¯s company from entry. ¡°Who goes there?¡±

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    Even after stating their business it took several back and forths for Ashwyn to convince the guard that no, it couldn¡¯t wait until morning and yes, they would like for the Sage Supreme to be roused in the middle of the night just for them. She assured the guard that they really were that special. Ashwyn¡¯s persistence won out in the end and the guard grudgingly disappeared, leaving the trio to stand in the middle of the path and wait.

    The wait was unbearably long. Daana was reconsidering spending one last night in the back of the wagon when one side of the double doors drew open with a heavy groan. A small armed party was assembled on the other side, ready to receive them. A faun festooned in a red cloak stepped forward, his bespectacled eyes darting between the three of them before settling on Ashwyn as the obvious leader. ¡°Commander Pride,¡± he greeted, with clinical coldness.

    ¡°Hear that, Ellie? Barely been sprung free of that dungeon a month now and I¡¯ve already earned myself a title. Not sure what for, though.¡± To the untrained eye, Ashwyn¡¯s smile was easy, almost friendly, but Daana saw the unease that pulled tight around the corners of her slate-gray eyes. ¡°And who might you be, friend? Gotta say, I¡¯m a little disappointed Larky didn¡¯t come greet us herself.¡±

    ¡°I am Havershire, the Sage Superior¡¯s chief advisor. I have been instructed to escort you inside.¡± The faun was all business, wasting few words and even fewer fucks. Daana couldn¡¯t blame him. From the unkempt state of his salt and pepper gray hair, he¡¯d obviously been dragged out from a warm bed to deal with the riff raff assembled at the gate. ¡°I ask that you bring only your key people. The rest of your forces can make camp outside of the wall, along with the others. There is not enough room and board for everyone.¡±

    ¡°Forces?¡± Once more, Ashwyn glanced at Ellisar for clues.

    The elf merely lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Ashwyn said to Havershire. ¡° As you can see, it will be just us three. Ellie and I aren¡¯t even planning to stay the night. A quick in and out and we¡¯ll be on our way.¡±

    Something about this caused the faun¡¯s irritated expression to change. He took another gander at the three. Whatever answers he sought, however, did not appear to be found. ¡°Very well,¡± the faun said, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. ¡°As a final request, the Sage Superior asks that you leave your weapons at the gate. You may collect them upon your return.¡±

    This, evidently, was enough to finally break Ellisar from her hostile silence. She edged a daring step forward, snarling, ¡°Is Lark out of her fucking mind?¡±

    The glare the faun shot her way would have stopped an ordinary opponent dead in their tracks. Being that the recipient was Ellisar, it did the opposite, encouraging several more steps from the outraged elf. To his credit, Havershire stood his ground, as if dealing with unhinged swordsmen was simply part of the job. ¡°It is a standard request. And, given the upheaval surrounding the two of you as of late, a sensible one.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, Ellie. Everyone knows you¡¯re just as deadly with a sword as you are without one. It encourages creativity.¡± Ashwyn stripped her weapons from her side and delivered them into the awaiting hands of the surrounding guards. Not without instructions, of course. ¡°Do be careful with those, please. They¡¯re family heirlooms. Not mine, of course. But whoever I stole them off of probably cares.¡±

    Daana followed suit, as did Ellisar, albeit with a substantial amount of muttered cursing.

    ¡°This way then.¡± Havershire led as the armored escorts fell into a strategic formation around them.

    The trio were escorted through a maze of cramped side streets, crisscrossing their way into the very heart of the settlement at what could have only been the most convoluted way possible. Eventually, after countless confusing twists and turns later, a towering structure rose up over the clay houses. It was three stories high and, unlike the neighboring stone and clay huts, built from wood. The flatlands were tundra, making trees a sparse commodity. The fact that someone had built an entire building out of wood meant the lodge was significant to the town in some way.

    Hopefully not a prison, Daana thought, given the way the armed guards kept stealing wary glances over their shoulders at her.

    They arrived at the lodge from the back and were ushered through what looked to be the servant¡¯s entrance. Havershire led them through a dark room cluttered with stacked chairs and linens, before crossing over into the main room. Long tables took up most of the interior. There was an unlit fireplace in the corner next to a raised platform with a variety of ornately carved chairs on display. Timber beams stretched high above them, crisscrossing along the underside of the steeply pitched roof.

    ¡°Wait here,¡± Havershire instructed as he dismissed the armed escort with a wave of his hand. ¡°The Sage Superior will be along shortly.¡±

    ¡°You keep saying that like it¡¯s a real title.¡± Ellisar didn¡¯t hide the disdain from her tone as her gaze wandered the great hall. ¡°Probably made it up herself. Nice to see Larkspur¡¯s ego is as inflated as ever.¡±

    Havershire¡¯s brow wrinkled. His mouth opened, poised to volley venom-laced words, when he thought better of it. Snapping his jaw shut, the aged faun offered a tight-lipped smile before exiting the way he¡¯d come, taking care to close the door in his wake with an ungentle slam.

    ¡°Sweet goddess, Ellie. You saw the army assembled outside the gates. You can¡¯t say things like that.¡± Alone for the first time since entering the settlement, Ashwyn allowed her stiff shoulders to relax. She ran a broad hand over her worried face, uttering, ¡°I don¡¯t know what in chaos is going on but, given the circumstances, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to be on our best behavior for the time be¡­¡±

    Her voice trailed once realizing Ellisar wasn¡¯t where she¡¯d been only seconds before. Ashwyn¡¯s dark eyes scoured the empty hall for a few panicked seconds before finding her. ¡°What in the goddess¡¯s name are you doing? Get down from there!¡±

    Using the natural grooves in log siding, Ellisar was working her way up the wall like a squirrel to a tree. She reached the nearest beam and jumped for it, pulling herself over until she disappeared from sight entirely. Ellisar¡¯s dry voice called back down, accompanied by a faint echo. ¡°If Larkspur¡¯s going to waste our time playing games, then I am not going to participate. I¡¯m taking a nap. Holler for me when you¡¯re done getting jerked around.¡±

    ¡°Dear goddess, she is going to be the death of me,¡± Ashwyn muttered under her breath.

    Daana left them to argue as she moved to inspect the rest of the space. Judging from the tables, the room appeared to be a formal dining hall. The main entrance was across from her and made up of a pair of grand, ornately carved double doors. There was a third door off to her left which, given the lingering smell of cooked onions and stew, likely led to a kitchen area. Had Ashwyn not advised them to be on their best behavior, Daana might have considered picking the kitchen entrance open and seeing what sort of goods were on offer.

    Making a good first impression. Not stealing from your mother, Daana reminded herself as she shuffled along. Eventually, weary from boredom and a lack of sleep, she joined the table Ashwyn was unceremoniously strewn over the top of. Daana plopped down onto the bench seat across from her with a groan. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think Ellisar had the right idea. How long is this going to take?¡±

    Ashwyn spoke with the side of her face plastered against the table. ¡°To your mother¡¯s credit, we did show up in the middle of the night, Peaches. It¡¯s to be expected. A few more minutes won¡¯t kill you.¡±

    ¡°Savor them.¡± Ellisar¡¯s dry voice rang out from above. ¡°Soon you¡¯ll look back fondly on the time before you met the great Larkspur Denari.¡±

    ¡°I know you can¡¯t see my hands, but I¡¯m holding up ten fingers nonetheless,¡± Ashwyn replied.

    Daana slumped over the table, cradling her head in her hands. She had just started to nod off when the main entrance jerked open behind them, allowing a cold wind to stir the stale air. Daana twisted around, heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears, watching wide-eyed as a sharply dressed figure stormed into the unlit hall, looking fit to set it afire.

    ¡°Ashwyn Pride,¡± the elf¡¯s velvety voice was like spider silk, soft but unbreaking. ¡°What in the seven realms of chaos took you so long?¡±

 178 - Cutthroat Snake

    Two red-robed soldiers followed in the sage superior¡¯s wake. The metal armor fitted beneath their robes clinked softly as they moved at an awkward pace, caught between keeping up with their esteemed leader and maintaining an air of regality. Sadly, they failed on both accounts, looking less like imposing escorts and more akin to crabs scuttling along the beach amidst low tide. Once inside, the soldiers heaved the ornately carved doors shut before taking their positions on either side of the grand entryway.

    Daana¡¯s sixth sense told her the pair were magical. She could feel power wafting off of them from across the gathering hall. That, however, was nothing in comparison to the raw energy emitting from the elf that strode confidently towards them. The call of magic rippled over¡¯s Daana¡¯s skin, teasing every hair into the air. She took a breath, trying desperately to ignore what felt like ants crawling up her spine, and focused on the sage superior instead.

    The elf in question was several inches taller than Daana, with dark, spiraling curls, and features so sharp, they could cut with a single glance. She wore a cropped blue cape over a thick, padded doublet. The paired skirt was plain but sensible, unlike her boots, which had more buckles and ties than a carriage harness. Considering the amount of time that had gone into securing the sage superior¡¯s footwear, it was a small miracle she¡¯d arrived in a timely manner at all.

    Not important, Daana told herself. Here we go. Play it cool. You¡¯re a competent, badass, long lost daughter not looking for anyone¡¯s approval, just answers.

    In spite of the internal pep talk, Daana¡¯s legs still wobbled as she stepped away from the table, intent on meeting the approaching elf halfway. The sage superior didn¡¯t offer so much as a courtesy glance as she swept past, eyes narrowed and focused on Ashwyn. For all of the effort poured into her appearance, the same care, alas, did not extend to the elf¡¯s sense of decorum.

    ¡°Ashwyn Pride,¡± her voice rang out until the very rafters shuddered in protest, ¡°where is my army?¡±

    An expert in the game of tit-for-tat, Ashwyn remained seated at the long table. She drummed her fingertips against the stained wood, utterly unintimidated by the sage superior¡¯s curt greeting. ¡°Outside the settlement walls last I checked.¡± She tilted her head to the side and flashed a winning smile. ¡°Are you in the habit of losing your armies, Larky? Kind of hard to miss a thing like that.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s brisk steps stopped short of the table. ¡°How many did you bring with you?¡±

    ¡°Three.¡±

    ¡°Three hundred or three thousand?¡±

    ¡°Three thousand?¡± Ashwyn said with a strained laugh. ¡°Look, if you¡¯re really desperate to stretch the numbers, I suppose we could bump it to four if you counted the horse. He is an honorary member of the team at this point. But that¡¯s the best I can do.¡±

    The sage superior held her tongue as a flush of color tinted her brown skin an unflattering shade of red. And then, just as she looked to be on the verge of losing her temper, the fury vanished, dismissed with a wearisome roll of her dark eyes. ¡°Oh dear gods,¡± Larkspur murmured, raising a hand to massage the wrinkle lines cutting across her forehead. ¡°It¡¯s been so long since someone has dared utter a witticism in my presence, I fear I no longer recognize them.¡±

    Ashwyn only smiled as her gaze darted to Daana as if to say ¡®what the fuck¡¯s a witticism?¡¯

    ¡°Forgive my sharpness, old friend,¡± Larkspur continued. ¡°As all of my correspondences have gone unanswered thus far, I feared that I was being willfully ignored.¡±

    Ashwyn, like Daana, had absolutely no idea what the elf was rambling on about. Unlike Daana, Ashwyn decided she didn¡¯t care. The orc saw her opportunity and seized it, neatly steering the conversation back in the direction she intended it to go. ¡°No apology necessary.¡± She gestured for Daana to approach. ¡°Now, as to why I am here. Larkspur, allow me to introduce you to¨C¡±

    ¡°You can introduce me to your officials soon enough. First, I want to hear the news on Oralia. Surely she is well on her way by now, yes? With an actual army in tow, I should hope.¡±

    ¡°...I think there may be some confusion here, Larky. I didn¡¯t show up on your doorstep on Oralia¡¯s behalf.¡±

    ¡°Enough with the useless jests already. I do not enjoy them. Just as I am not enjoying the course of this conversation. Stop stalling and tell me where your sister is.¡± Larkspur continued in spite of Ashwyn¡¯s obvious confusion, as if hoping a spew of critical information would jog the orc¡¯s poor memory. ¡°I issued a call-to-arms months ago. Four months, Ashwyn. That should have warranted a response by now. I cannot keep sitting idle while Oralia traipses the countryside uprooting every insignificant realm outpost she stumbles across. Her place is here, by my side. I¨C¡±

    Larkspur stopped mid-rant, noticing the way Ashwyn¡¯s open-mouthed gaze had wandered back to Daana. The sage superior¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Why do you keep looking at the elfling? Should I be demanding answers from your inferior instead? I swear, it¡¯s like you don¡¯t even realize¡­¡±

    A flash of clarity extinguished the fire burning within Larkspur¡¯s umber eyes. ¡°You,¡± she started, forced to try again when the rest of her sentiment neglected to roll from her tongue in a single go, ¡°you don¡¯t know what is going on, do you?¡±

    ¡°No idea,¡± Ashwyn assured her.

    ¡°And you don¡¯t have an army with you?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°And Oralia?¡± Larkspur¡¯s eyebrows lifted high on her head, almost pleadingly.

    ¡°Could have settled down and started an orphanage for wayward criminals, for all I know. Oralia and I haven¡¯t spoken in years.¡±

    The fire within Larkspur¡¯s dark eyes rekindled with twice the fury as before. ¡°That cutthroat snake! I knew she couldn¡¯t be trusted.¡± Her foot slammed against the hardwood floor as she looked up and down the gathering hall with sudden, dead set purpose. The sage superior¡¯s harsh glare passed over Daana only briefly in her search. ¡°Where is she?¡±

    ¡°Larky, I told you. Oralia¡¯s not here.¡±

    ¡°Not Oralia. Your damned wife!¡±

    The snap of Ashwyn¡¯s tusks was so powerful, it elicited a flinch from everyone gathered, including the guards. The orc stood and squared her shoulders, imparting a particularly leveling glare that made Daana grateful it was not aimed at her. ¡°Speak about Ellisar in that tone again and I will walk out that door without another word. Is that understood?¡±

    From the corner of her vision, Daana saw the way the soldiers¡¯ hands moved to their sides, palming the hilt of their swords as they waited for the command to charge. Their faces were grim. Even without a weapon in hand, Ashwyn¡¯s physical stature made armed witch soldiers think twice about challenging her.

    Larkspur¡¯s clenched jaw softened as her proud shoulders dropped. For the first time since her arrival, she looked something other than angry. ¡°Ashwyn, my dear friend, forgive me. I think we both may have been misled. Will you allow me to explain my side? And then I will hear yours?¡±

    Once more, Daana¡¯s and Ashwyn¡¯s eyes met. With a single raised eyebrow, Ashwyn sought Daana¡¯s permission, circumventing the need for spoken words. While this was not the homecoming Daana had hoped for, they were here and her mother was present. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to push the introductions until everyone was on the same page, she supposed. Daana waved her hand as she bit back a sigh, signifying that it was alright with her.

    Larkspur noticed the curious back-and-forth and, from her curled expression, was biting back a myriad of questions. Why in the seven realms of chaos Commander Pride was taking orders from a lowly elfling topped the list, undoubtedly.

    ¡°By all means, then,¡± Ashwyn said. ¡°Explain to us what is going on.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s explanation was well-rehearsed, as if she¡¯d spent a lifetime rearranging the words within her head until they were perfect. ¡°After I fled the realm, I did not simply disappear into obsoletion. I have been planning, plotting, designing a way to make everything right again. For the last seventy-four years, I have been training refugee witches with the sole intention of overthrowing the Division of Divination and, by extension, the United Territories of the Realm.¡±

    There was an uncomfortable drop in conversation as Larkspur waited, watching Ashwyn¡¯s blank expression for a tell. If she was expecting some sort of grand response, she didn¡¯t get one. Ashwyn offered the verbal equivalent of a patronizing pat to the head. ¡°Good for you, Lark.¡±

    ¡°None of this is supposed to be a surprise to you. You were supposed to have been kept in the loop!¡± Larkspur pinched the bridge of her nose and winced. ¡°I am on the cusp of war. This is not the time to be discovering that the person tasked with delivering my messages willfully neglected to pass the information along! Is this why Oralia isn¡¯t here? Did your wife conveniently forget to tell her as well?¡±

    ¡°Can we circle back to that actually? I¡¯m still not sure what any of this has to do with Ellisar.¡±

    ¡°She was my point of contact! I¡¯ve been sending Ellisar correspondences ever since her enlistment into Oralia¡¯s faithful four. She¡¯s been acting on my behalf for the better part of a century: siphoning witches from the Division of Divination, sending and receiving intelligence, sowing dissension, paving the way for revolution. While she wasn¡¯t my first choice, her resilience to death made her an ideal courier. I had no reason to doubt Ellisar¡¯s competence.¡± Larkspur paused, adding, ¡°Until recently, that is. When all contact from her stopped completely.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± was all Ashwyn managed.

    Larkspur¡¯s body language softened as she stepped tentatively closer. ¡°She really didn¡¯t tell you?¡±

    Slowly, as if in a daze, Ashwyn shook her head no.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. As her partner I thought surely you, out of everyone, would have known.¡± Larkspur gathered the orc¡¯s right hand into her own and clasped it. ¡°At the very least, consider what I¡¯m offering. What it could mean for the realm. We would be starting over, just like you always wanted. I need Oralia to handle the military operations, but I need you to rebuild. I always told you I would find a way to repay your generosity, and this is it. Together, we could make this land a haven for all. Isn¡¯t that what you always wanted?¡±

    Poor Ashwyn looked like she¡¯d been roused from a nightmare. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly, still having some trouble separating reality from imagination.

    ¡°I am offering you a position as one of the key advisors. There is a long road ahead, yes, but after everything you have sacrificed, you deserve to see your ideas come to fruition. I need you by my side.¡±

    Gingerly, with marked care, Ashwyn removed her hand from Larkspur¡¯s grasp. ¡°That¡¯s thoughtful of you, but I¡¯m not here to join your cause, Larky. I came to reunite you with your daughter.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s head swiveled back in Daana¡¯s direction. Her stare settled this time, actually taking Daana in versus simply glancing over the top of her. ¡°This is your worst joke yet.¡±

    ¡°Funny how the truth works that way.¡± Despite the nervous smile that split across her face, the gleam in Ashwyn¡¯s flint-colored eyes was heavy. The orc held out her arm and ushered Larkspur in Daana¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a long story. The short of it is, there was a shipwreck, your daughter was found and smuggled back into the realm, raised by your mortal enemy, and is just now discovering her roots.¡±

    Daana lifted her hand and offered a nervous wave. Whatever words were beginning to form on the tip of her tongue died the moment she found herself swept up in Ashwyn¡¯s path, being forcefully herded towards the door.

    ¡°Obviously you two have a lot of catching up to do,¡± Ashwyn said. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡±

    ¡°Hold on!¡± Daana tried to slow their progress by digging her heels into the slick hardwood. Alas, all she got for her efforts was a horrific squeaking sound as the worn tread of her boots skidded along the top of the floor unhindered. ¡°You said you were going to introduce us first!¡±

    ¡°I just did.¡±

    The sage superior was equally helpless against Ashwyn¡¯s strength. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this. We have a rebellion to go over!¡±

    ¡°See to the door please, gents,¡± Ashwyn told the soldiers who, caught in a moment of bewilderment, followed her orders without question. ¡°We can discuss your war afterwards, Larky. You and Daana catch up. I have to take care of a few personal matters in the meantime.¡±

    In a mere matter of strides, Daana found herself ushered out the doorway, down the front steps, and standing in the cool night air. From Larkspur¡¯s perplexed expression, she appeared equally as confused as to how they got there. The sage superior glanced over her shoulder, blinking in surprise as the double doors drew shut behind them.

    Larkspur¡¯s frown deepened around the edges. ¡°I forgot how persuasive she can be.¡±

 179 - Love Of A Mother

    A frigid breeze whipped overhead, laden with the soothing scents of dry cotton grass and smoke from wood burning fires. The sky was dark and overcast, but the cobblestone beneath Daana¡¯s feet was bathed in the warm yellow glow from the street lamps that lined the outside of the gathering hall. While she could have blamed the shiver that crawled its way up her spine on the chill night air, Daana knew it was unrelated to the weather. A growing sense of unease churned within her stomach. It twisted her intestines into slippery knots, tugging tighter, tighter, tighter with each agonizing second that passed.

    Larkspur Denari, the witch, the rebel, the idealistic revolutionist, possibly mother, stood only paces away wearing an expression of absolute indifference. Nay, it was worse than that. For a second, the sage superior¡¯s mask slipped, and Daana saw utter revulsion burning within her dark, umber eyes. The elf straightened her stance as she inhaled sharply through her nose and said, ¡°And here I thought I¡¯d finally put this behind me.¡±

    Fearful of sounding stupid, Daana said nothing. Alas, it came at the price of merely looking stupid.

    ¡°Go on then,¡± Larkspur said with an impatient flick of her wrist. ¡°Spin your lies. Paint me a picture. Convince me how you¡¯re my long lost daughter, just like all the other fakes that have cropped up over the years.¡±

    All the hours spent rehearsing what she was going to say slipped through Daana¡¯s grasp like loose sand between tightly clenched fingers. Her left shoulder lifted, as if possessing a will of its own. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°How? You travel all this way and that¡¯s the most you can say? You dare waste my time with a measly how?¡± Larkspur peered down her nose at Daana, debating whether to use her heel or words to squash her into unrecognizable pulp. The latter won out, for the time being anyway. ¡°You are not the first to turn up on my doorstep claiming to be my long lost child. If money is your intent, I have none. I am also regrettably short of patience. So if you wish to keep your head, remove it from my sight immediately.¡±

    The tips of Daana¡¯s ears burned against the crisp night air. ¡°I don¡¯t want your money!¡±

    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. No one ever admits that right out of the gate,¡± Larkspur said with an uncouth roll of her eyes. It looked entirely out of place on someone who was the visual epitome of elven grace and nobility. She shooed Daana away with a halfhearted wave of her hand. ¡°Spare me the theatrics and go away.¡±

    ¡°Ah! Right there! Did you see that? You just rolled your eyes.¡±

    ¡°You are supposed to be roleplaying my child, child. Not the other way around. What of it?¡±

    ¡°It used to drive Uncle¨C¡± Daana nearly bit her tongue on the word. Even after months of hating his guts, it was still a hard habit to break. ¡°It used to drive Geralt Lazuli mad. And now I think I know why. Every time I gave him disrespect, all he could see was you.¡±

    ¡°That does not prove anything.¡±

    ¡°Watch!¡± Daana mimicked the facial expression. ¡°Do you see it? You probably got in just as much trouble for it at the division as I did.¡±

    The disgust burning within Larkspur¡¯s eyes shifted to confusion, laced with the tiniest trace of pity. It was the sort of look typically reserved for two legged dogs and particularly ugly babies. ¡°...You are a very strange elfling.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I grew up hearing that a lot too.¡± Daana¡¯s shoulders slumped miserably. Meeting her mother wasn¡¯t anything like she pictured it to be. Already, she could feel the weight of disappointment creeping up from within, threatening to drag her under. ¡°Look, I just want answers, okay? I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m your daughter or not. But Ellisar seemed to think so and Geralt Lazuli told me the same. I¡¯m not here to con you. I just want to know who I am.¡±

    ¡°And why would I be able to tell you that? How would I know who you are?¡±

    ¡°My gods, Ellisar was right. I never thought I¡¯d see the day. You are a bitch.¡± Daana threw her hands into the air as she spun on her heel, suddenly intent on being anywhere else. A tavern, a hayloft, the bottom of a pig trough, all sounded better than being berated by some stuck-up snob. ¡°Forget it. Obviously I¡¯m just wasting both our time.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡±

    The sheer force of the command bore down on her like a sledgehammer. Daana hadn¡¯t intended to obey, but her feet betrayed her. She froze mid-step, unable to do little more than set her raised boot onto the ground beside the other to keep from losing her balance and falling over. Clenching her jaw, Daana resolved to keep her back to the sage superior. It was a rather pitiful attempt as far as acts of defiance went, but at least it was something.

    Larkspur¡¯s boots scuffed softly against the cobblestone as she approached from behind. She appeared from the corner of Daana¡¯s vision, walking with her hands clasped neatly behind her back. At last, having drawn out her steps in the most aggravating way possible, Larkspur came to a standstill directly in front of her. Her gaze traveled up and down Daana as if she was evaluating a prize heifer. ¡°Did you just call me a bitch?¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Now was probably not the time to inquire whether or not the sage superior¡¯s ears were working. Daana offered another shrug, trying not to draw attention to the sudden sheen of sweat dripping down her brow. ¡°If the shoe fits.¡±

    ¡°Hm.¡± The start of a smile cut across Larkspur¡¯s sharp mouth. ¡°Now that does sound like me. What¡¯s your age, elfling?¡±

    ¡°Seventy-six?¡±

    ¡°Are you asking me or telling me?¡±

    ¡°Considering I don¡¯t even know my real name, let¡¯s consider it an optimistic guess.¡± Daana¡¯s gaze dropped to her hands, suddenly aware of the stirring sensation beneath her skin. The darkness in her veins could sense the raw magic pouring from Larkspur. It pulled at Daana, urging her to reach out and take it, to feed the hunger gnawing at her from the inside.

    Daana took a breath to steady her nerves instead and said, ¡°You were just telling me to leave. Are we doing that or not?¡±

    She didn¡¯t like the way Larkspur¡¯s intense stare bored right through her, rooting out her darkest secrets without having to lift a finger. Finally, with her mouth pinched to the side, the sage superior uttered a single word. ¡°Ren.¡±

    ¡°Blen. Look at that, I can say nonsensical words too. Is that what we¡¯re doing now?¡± Daana winced the moment the words fled her mouth. That might have been a step too far. Regrettably, the more time you spent around the dredges of society, the more your own propriety tended to slip.

    ¡°Ren is what I named my daughter,¡± Larkspur said. ¡°I will admit, there is some resemblance. Although that nose and those hips did not come from me.¡±

    Un-be-lievable. They had known each other an entire five minutes and her mother was making unwanted comments about her appearance already.

    Larkspur stepped closer, cupping Daana¡¯s chin in her hand as she lifted her face, allowing her to peer deep into her eyes. ¡°What sort of witch are you?¡±

    ¡°The terrible kind?¡± Daana offered. The joke landed as remarkably as she expected it to, prompting her to provide a more substantial answer. ¡°I¡¯m magic-sensitive.¡±

    ¡°Interesting. Then why am I sensing magic?¡±

    Damn. Apparently it was time to move on to that nasty bit of business already. Daana had hoped they could actually talk a little more before explaining why she had sought out her mother¡¯s help. Jerking her head free, Daana drew back the corner of her sleeve and exposed the marred skin underneath. ¡°Because of this I think. It¡¯s the other reason I¡¯m here, actually.¡±

    Larkspur withdrew her hand as if she¡¯d touched a leper. To her credit, at least she didn¡¯t scream or run away. Curiosity piqued, taking care to clasp her hands safely behind her back, the sage superior leaned closer and examined the dark veins writhing beneath Daana¡¯s skin. Her tight-lipped expression was a mix of unease and morbid fascination. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°The remnants of a dark entity. A small piece, anyway.¡± Daana paused, recalling the name Whisper had used. ¡°Referred to as an old one, I think?¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s gaze lifted from Daana¡¯s wrist to her face. The older elf¡¯s eyes were wide and rimmed in white. ¡°You encountered an old one? And survived? How did it mark you in this way without its power consuming you?¡±

    The intensity of her mother¡¯s stare made Daana want to shy away. Unfortunately, her traitorous feet were still fixed in place. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it by myself. It was a joint effort. Another witch trapped the entity while I channeled its power into a powerstone.¡±

    ¡°Dear gods, child. I have heard rumors of an incident on the Iron Ridge. I even sent my best people into the territories to investigate the wild claims circulating around the Stoneclaw witch, but I have yet to learn anything useful. You were there when it happened? You helped?¡±

    The slight hint of admiration in Larkspur¡¯s voice was enough to pick Daana¡¯s spirits back up off the floor. ¡°You heard about the battle on the mountain?¡±

    ¡°Anyone who is anyone has heard. Every world power is in a mad scramble to find those responsible.¡± Larkspur lowered her voice, glancing around them as if to check for unexpected eavesdroppers. It seemed like overkill considering it was the middle of the night and the only other people within earshot were the guards, who were keeping a respectable distance. ¡°Do you have it with you, child? The powerstone? I would very much like to see it.¡±

    Daana gripped her wrist, feeling her queasiness start to return. ¡°Uh, no. I don¡¯t have it.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s dark eyebrows rose high on her head. ¡°It is with the Stoneclaw witch then?¡±

    Those left on the mountain after the battle had agreed it would be best for someone of the unmagical persuasion to keep the powerstone. It was fine by Daana, as she wanted to be nowhere near the damned thing. ¡°I have no idea.¡± Daana adopted her best look of innocence. ¡°I went into shock shortly after the ordeal. When I awoke the other witch was already gone.¡±

    Carried off by a dragon. Gone. Po-tay-toe. Po-tah-toe. Same difference, as Snag was fond of saying.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t inquire about the stone¡¯s whereabouts?¡±

    ¡°Of course I did. But nobody tells me anything.¡± As she had learned from Ellisar, the best lies were the ones that encompassed a partial truth.

    Larkspur¡¯s expression grew unreadable as she drew back, her brown skin illuminated by the flickering lantern light. ¡°Who else was on the mountain with you?¡±

    Crap.

    A knowing smile hovered over her mother¡¯s lips. ¡°The stone is with Oralia, of course.¡±

    How? How had she gotten the answer without being told? Quickly, Daana tried to recover some of the ground she had unknowingly lost. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m not sure where the stone is. You would be better off asking¨C¡±

    ¡°Say no more, child. I understand the need to keep it secret. It would be devastating for something of that magnitude to fall into enemy hands. I have no doubt that my most trusted general is keeping it safe.¡± Larkspur tilted her head skyward, muttering, ¡°Provided Oralia remembers her place and returns to my side before I am forced to retrieve her myself.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t any way to backpedal now. Daana chose silence instead. After a moment of deep thought, Larkspur offered Daana a soft pat on the shoulder. It felt like the pity touch one gave to a spurned suitor. ¡°I think it would be best to revisit this in the morning, after everyone has had a chance to sleep. Tomorrow you and I can get to know each other better. And you then can tell me all about your adventures on the mountain.¡±

 180 - After Everything

    Ashwyn waited for Larkspur¡¯s escorts to usher out and skitter down the large stone steps before heaving the heavy double doors shut. She felt a twinge of guilt for throwing Daana out into the cold, especially with someone as inhospitable as her mother, but there were more pressing matters at hand. An inescapable pressure swelled within her chest, clawing its way upwards and outwards, until the pressure reached her eyes. She had been betrayed many times in her life, but this was more than the usual hurt. She felt cut open and split in half with her insides spilling out, exposed and vulnerable.

    Clenching her hand, Ashwyn leaned into the heavy wood of the door, fighting the urge to drive her fist through it. ¡°Is this why you didn¡¯t want to come?¡± Her voice echoed along the steeply pitched ceiling, bouncing from one wall to the next. ¡°Because you knew Larkspur had a position here waiting for me? And instead of being upfront about it, discussing it like a grown adult, you chose to hide it from me?¡±

    There was a soft rustle behind her. Ashwyn turned, breath bated as Ellisar dropped down in front of her. How she had gotten down from the rafters so quickly was unclear. At the very least, she was willing to do this face to face. That meant something, didn¡¯t it? Ashwyn found herself clinging to the hope that this was all merely an oversight. Ellisar could be cruel and fickle at times, yes, but surely there was an explanation that could alleviate the pressure building behind her eyes.

    As the seconds slowly ticked past and the pair stared without speaking, the hope for a simple miscommunication flickered out. Ashwyn¡¯s hope transformed into a pit that threatened to swallow her whole. Her tongue was suddenly so unbearably dry she felt the words scrape along the roof of her mouth on their way out. ¡°Is it true?¡±

    When Ellisar¡¯s eventual answer came, the only thing telling about it was the way she artfully dodged the very question itself. ¡°I just spent the last sixty years working my ass off to free you from that dungeon. Don¡¯t throw that away.¡±

    ¡°I know you sacrificed, Ellisar. I will always owe you that. But right now you owe me the truth. Is what Larkspur saying true?¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s jaw was locked. Ashwyn could hear the elf¡¯s molars being ground into powder from the back of her mouth.

    ¡°Answer me!¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to let her talk you into throwing your life away for another lost cause, alright? So yeah, it¡¯s true,¡± the elf said. ¡°I told Larkspur what she wanted to hear to keep her from meddling in my affairs. I didn¡¯t earn your freedom just to have you taken away again. I earned it so that we could spend it together. Forgive me for not wanting some power hungry maniac to get in the way of that!¡±

    ¡°You are my partner. A partner does not get to make unilateral decisions without consulting the other half. You know this. You agreed to this.¡±

    Ellisar narrowed her eyes. ¡°Just like you volunteered us to pick up all those escaped witches the night of the massacre? Or how about after your sister caught us, when you single handedly volunteered to sacrifice yourself to the realm so that Larkspur could run free? Funny how you didn¡¯t need my input back then.¡±

    Ashwyn held the swelling pressure at bay, trying her damndest to remain level-headed when every instinct screamed at her to fight fire with fire. The fear of what might slip out if she did was all that held her back. ¡°That¡¯s not fair, Ellisar. I was transparent with you on both of those issues.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, to tell me you were doing them! You never asked bloody permission, did you?¡±

    Once more her wife successfully managed to reroute the conversation. ¡°Stop changing the subject. You should have told me about Larkspur, and the war, and my supposed role in all of it.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you because you would have considered it.¡±

    ¡°Of course I would have considered it!¡± The words that flew from her mouth caught even Ashwyn by surprise. Her anger was awakening something in her. Something that had slowly festered during those long years in confinement. As much as she tried, she could never rid herself of the resentment. For years she shoved the feelings down, trying to make do with the hope that one day it would not matter. But the resentment did not dwindle. It merely went dormant, slowly breeding resentment in the dark, unvisited corners of her mind.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    For the first time since her escape, the resentment bubbled over. ¡°I¡¯m allowed to have dreams too, aren¡¯t I? Yes, you got to work your ass off, Ellisar. Don¡¯t remind me. But I didn¡¯t. While you were off fighting in wars and risking your life with your friends, I sat for seventy-three years in that dungeon waiting for the chance for my life to start again.¡±

    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± Ellisar said. ¡°You¡¯re jealous? Because I got to run myself ragged serving your sister? I¡¯m sorry you¡¯re the one who got left behind, but how is that my fault?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you bringing it up?¡±

    ¡°Because you act like I owe you for it!¡±

    Ellisar blinked, taken aback, but said nothing.

    That was the funny thing about buried issues. As soon as you uncovered one, the rest had an unfortunate way of clawing their way to the surface. Ashwyn couldn¡¯t stop the words coming from her mouth had she tried. The sad part was, she didn¡¯t want to. After years of trying, maybe it was finally time to stop. ¡°I never asked you to save me. I told you to cut and run the moment Oralia¡¯s back was turned.¡±

    Hurt glimpsed Ellisar¡¯s stoic face. It was replaced almost as quickly by rage. ¡°I stayed because I love you!¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Hot tears slipped from Ashwyn¡¯s eyes unbidden. She didn¡¯t try to stop those, either. There wasn¡¯t any point. They both knew what was coming next. ¡°And I love you, too. But is that enough to keep justifying this? First the massacre, and then the escape, our trial, now this. Are we just using another crisis to stall the inevitable? Could it be that it¡¯s easier to be mad at our circumstances than it is to stop and evaluate whether or not we ever worked to begin with?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking say it.¡±

    ¡°We were growing apart, Ellie. Even before all of this. There is no sense in denying it.¡±

    ¡°Fuck! You¡¯re calling it now? After everything?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not calling anything. I am telling you where I stand. Whether or not you decide this relationship is still worth it to you is for you to decide.¡± Ashwyn stood straighter, drawing an unsteady breath. ¡°My place is here. It always has been. I would love nothing more than to have you by my side.¡±

    ¡°Ashwyn, do you even hear yourself? Larkspur is insane!¡±

    ¡°Others have said the same about you.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s it then? One lousy speech about how the two of you are going to make the world a better place and you roll over like an obedient dog? Just like that? Larkspur will do to you what she does best. She will chew you up and spit you out the moment you¡¯re no longer useful to her. Is that what you want?¡±

    ¡°Now you suddenly care what I want?¡±

    ¡°You are playing right into her hand! This is what she does.¡± Ellisar made a gesture with her hands, as if gripping an invisible object and ripping it to shreds. ¡°She takes good things, things that are whole, full of promise, and she dismantles them piece by piece, until there¡¯s nothing worth keeping. And then she throws them away, because that¡¯s all people are to her¨Cdisposable trash.¡±

    Ellisar¡¯s animated hands uncurled and fell uselessly to her sides. ¡°She broke me, Ashwyn. Just as she is going to do to you.¡±

    For years Ashwyn had tried to pry behind those stubborn golden eyes, to glimpse the inner workings, to learn what had happened to render Ellisar so mangled beyond repair. For the first time, Ashwyn was starting to see the hairline cracks. Had she persisted, she may have been able to break the very wall down itself. But that required the willpower to do so. And, after fighting an unwinnable battle for so long, she found herself not lacking the power, but the will itself.

    Hardness settled in Ellisar¡¯s golden eyes at the realization that her sudden bout of openness was too little too late. ¡°I¡¯m not going stand by and watch her turn you into an empty shell of a person.¡±

    Ashwyn had unknowingly been preparing for this moment for years. It had been hard in the dungeon, sometimes going months between correspondence, all the while wondering if each letter from Ellisar would be her last. That might have been easier. At least she could have written the failings of their relationship off to circumstances outside of her control.

    This hurt so much more. ¡°Then it seems we¡¯ve reached an impasse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not coming back. Not this time. If this is really what you want, then you¡¯d better be damned sure.¡±

    How could anyone be sure of anything? The only certainty Ashwyn felt was the suffocating tightness that coiled around the base of her throat. Filling her lungs to capacity felt impossible. Her breathing grew short, springing forth in small, short gasps as a second burst of tears welled within her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ellisar. I think this might be goodbye.¡±

    She looked like she wanted to kill something. Ellisar¡¯s eyes were wide and gleaming with murderous intent. Her upper lip curled back but whatever vile words danced across her tongue died there. A half second later, she turned swiftly on her heel and strode back across the gathering hall, wrenched the side door open, and slipped soundlessly away.

    The urge to call out, to race after her, to gather the stupid elf in her arms and demand she come to her senses, all of it pulled at Ashwyn. But she remained still. Watching, with tears streaming down her face, as the love of her life disappeared into the night, stealing her heart one final time.

 181 - The Unsurvivable

    The faint chirps and warbles of birdsong seemed strangely far away when Oralia awoke. Other than the birds, there appeared to be an overwhelming absence of noise. Which was odd, considering Mul and Lingon argued so frequently their quarrels often carried over into their sleep. It was not unusual to hear one grumbling something unintelligible at the other in the dead of night. Something was off. Tentatively, with eyes still stubbornly screwed shut, Oralia drew air in through her nose and out the gap between her tusks, confirming her mounting suspicions. The surrounding aromas were not the usual ambience of wet soil and forest rot, but of dusty, leather bound books and the sweet undertones of burnt incense.

    Oralia¡¯s heavy eyelids eased open. The blistering light pouring in around her convinced her to snap them shut almost immediately. Head swimming, Oralia felt around her with her dominant hand, intent on piecing the clues together regardless of whether or not she had the full use of her vision. The nest of warm, fluffy blankets piled beneath her was far too soft to be her own. There was a pillow as well¨Ca commodity unfit for life on the road.

    Wherever she was, Oralia concluded, it was certainly not camp.

    A part of her wanted to ignore this revelation and drift peacefully back to sleep. The larger, more stubborn part of her promptly squashed the idea out of existence and set about attempting to assess her situation once more. This time, when Oralia forced her reluctant eyes open, she realized that the surrounding brightness was not from the spirit realm calling her home, but from the large bay window to her right.

    Not dead. Good start.

    Her eyelids clamped shut once more, allowing the noxious boiling sensation within her gut to die down to a simmer. The logical parts of her brain slowly stirred back to life as she waited. Both the sunlight and the window from which it poured through indicated she was inside a dwelling, which also explained the overwhelming scent of old books and incense. Unfortunately, in order to learn anything more required opening her eyes again¨Ca task which seemed far more difficult than usual. After a few steadying breaths, Oralia turned her head away from the window and took in as much of her surroundings as her weak vision could bear.

    She lay on a wooden floor, propped up on a makeshift cot of patchwork quilts and pillows. Oralia¡¯s proximity to the ground gave the illusion that the room was large but, at her full height, she was quite certain the top of her head would have grazed the ceiling. The walls were painted a faded yellow and adorned with homely decorations of dried flower wreaths and aged parchment framed in wood. A myriad of potted plants hung from hooks on the low ceiling above, suspended by artistically woven hangers made of knotted hemp rope. There was an ancient green settee behind her. Beyond that, she suspected, was the open entryway leading to the rest of the house.

    What Oralia found most peculiar, however, was the lack of people.

    Her nose told her that there had been multiple persons in the house recently. Fauns, primarily, based on the lingering presence of musk and fur. There had been at least one orc in the past day or so, and what might have been a number of humans as well. Despite the overwhelming evidence that the home was occupied, Oralia could not hear anyone moving about. An opportune time, perhaps, to be on her way before said residents returned.

    Unlike opening her eyes which had, admittedly, been a struggle, sitting upright proved downright torturous. Every muscle in her swollen abdomen seized the moment she attempted to lift her shoulders from the pillowy cot. Stifling a snarl, Oralia eased back down, allowing the spasms to run their course. When the worst of it was past, she stubbornly unclenched her jaw and attempted once more.

    Oralia¡¯s forehead was coated in a hot sheen of sweat by the time she¡¯d managed to gather her knees beneath her. Sucking in a final gulp of incense-infused air, she planted one bare foot against the cold wood flooring and heaved her unwilling body into a wobbly stand. She managed two shaky steps before her legs gave out. Oralia caught herself against the green settee, saving herself from a more painful fall.

    ¡°I¡¯d tell you to stop being an idiot and sit your ass back down, but listening to reason never was your strong suit.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s shoulders bristled. Lifting her head, her gaze followed the voice to its source. A brown and tan faun leaned against the archway, stirring a cup of tea with an unamused expression hovering over her fuzzy eyebrows.

    Oralia¡¯s voice came out dry and gruff. ¡°Briony?¡±

    ¡°Hello, Protector,¡± Briony replied, still stirring her tea, looking every inch the epitome of boredom. ¡°Although I suppose you probably don¡¯t go by that anymore. Do you fancy Oralia these days or is there a new title I should call you by?¡±

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± The words had the misfortune of leaving Oralia¡¯s mouth before she realized her energy would have been better spent on something more along the lines of: where am I? How did I get here? And why in the seven realms of chaos am I as weak as a newborn?

    ¡°This is my home. I live here,¡± Briony stated matter-of-factly. ¡°The better question is, what are you doing here? Last I heard, you and your ilk were causing havoc along the Adderwood border. So strange of you to pop up in Lonebrook without warning.¡±

    Her team! For the gods¡¯ sakes, why hadn¡¯t she asked about her team? Tearing her eyes from Briony, Oralia searched the hallway beyond for any signs of her people. She forced her mounting panic down with a difficult swallow. ¡°My team is not here, are they?¡±

    ¡°Gods no. We found you all by your lonesome in a most unusual situation. I¡¯ve got eyes and ears all over these woods, though. Your crew isn¡¯t far. I was reluctant to extend an invitation without knowing what sort of trouble would be walking through my doorway first.¡±

    Fatigue got the best of her. Grasping the wooden frame of the settee for support, Oralia twisted around and eased her trembling body to the floor. The couch would have been undeniably more comfortable but, given its size and apparent age, wasn¡¯t worth the risk of it breaking and further upsetting her already irritated host.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The resonating click-clack of Briony¡¯s hooves grew louder as the faun moved from the archway. Her tan and brown shape appeared moments later on the opposite end of the settee. Briony sat on the edge of the green cushion and crossed her legs at the ankles, keeping her steely amber eyes locked on Oralia.

    Suspecting the faun was not going to offer anything more on the location of her team without having her own questions answered first, Oralia obliged her the best she could. It was a shame she was too weary to remember what the original question had been. ¡°What is it you wish to know?¡±

    Briony gave her tea another thoughtful stir. ¡°Why you¡¯re here.¡±

    That much was easy at least. Oralia didn¡¯t even have to lie. ¡°To find Faris. We have reason to believe that the realm is going to use him to lure Rasp out of hiding.¡±

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re not here hunting witches?¡±

    That was probably meant as a verbal jab, but Oralia answered truthfully on the off chance it was a legitimate question. ¡°We are not here hunting witches.¡±

    ¡°Then why was it I found you with a fire elemental?¡± Briony lifted the teacup to her chin and took a breath, inhaling the warm steam though her nostrils. ¡°At least that¡¯s what I assume it was. Hard to tell given the state of the remains.¡±

    Warm bile pooled in the back of Oralia¡¯s throat as the memory of burnt flesh and crackling flames flashed to the forefront of her mind. She sank lower to the floor, feeling an inexplicable chill roll across her bare arms. She used her palms to rub the life back into the forearms, but the cold persisted. The sensation spread until the remaining warmth in her bones was replaced by ice.

    Something soft descended over her shoulders, causing Oralia to flinch in surprise. She settled back down once realizing it was nothing more than a blanket. Confused, her wary stare returned to the faun beside her.

    ¡°You were shivering.¡± Briony tilted her horns in the direction of the unlit hearth. ¡°I can get a fire going if you want.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Oralia squeezed her eyelids shut, attempting to drown out the sounds of the hungry, lapping tongues of flame that danced along the edges of her frayed memory. Through clenched teeth, she gritted out, ¡°No fire, thank you.¡±

    ¡°That witch did a number on you, didn¡¯t they? How in the gods did you manage to defeat a fire elemental?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± The cold writhing beneath Oralia¡¯s flesh flared once more. ¡°I do not know. My memory of the incident is foggy at best.¡±

    Although she couldn¡¯t see Briony¡¯s expression, the faun¡¯s words sounded utterly unconvinced. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have anything to do with that curious looking rash you¡¯ve got on your chest, would it? Or the powerstone you carry around your neck?¡±

    Instinctively, Oralia reached for the pendant. She didn¡¯t know why she felt a rush of relief when her fingers made contact with the stone¡¯s cool, smooth surface. By all rights, she should have wanted it gone.

    ¡°You nearly broke my hand when I tried to remove it,¡± Briony continued. ¡°Which was alarming, considering the tonic I¡¯d given you for the pain was supposed to have put you under.¡±

    Oralia eased her eyes back open, fearful she already knew what direction Briony¡¯s line of interrogation would be taking. ¡°Did I? My apologies.¡±

    The withering look the faun imparted rivaled even Oralia¡¯s best ¡®don¡¯t fuck with me¡¯ glare. Briony¡¯s tone was as cold as the ice rampaging through Oralia¡¯s veins. ¡°In case you have forgotten, I was on the mountain with you when all the shit went down. I know what that stone is, Oralia. And know what is in it. Your wounds are identical to Daana¡¯s. Which means whatever is afflicting you, was caused by the dark entity. I think all of this would go a lot easier for both of us if you were up front about what is going on.¡±

    Right. Oralia actually had forgotten about Briony¡¯s involvement on the mountain. If she was not mistaken, trapping the dark entity into the powerstone might have been the faun¡¯s idea. With a pained sigh, Oralia pulled the collar of the billowy nightshirt¨Cnot her own, might have even been a bedsheet at one point in its life¨Cand exposed her collarbones. ¡°We did not defeat the spirit on the mountain. Not completely. While Daana was able to contain the dark entity within the powerstone, a small piece of it burrowed into each of us.¡±

    Briony interrupted her recount, raising one eyebrow in concern, ¡°Even Rasp?¡±

    ¡°No one has had any contact with either him or Whisper since the incident. I do not know for sure, but would not be surprised. Rasp was in closer contact with the spirit than any of us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±

    What little energy she possessed was already beginning to dwindle. Oralia forewent a verbal reply in favor of a less taxing nod of agreement. Briony was right, of course. If the dark entity was having this much of a toll on her, a non-magical person, she hated to imagine what sort of consequences it would exact on an overpowered, highly unstable witch. Hopefully Whisper was faring better in their efforts to cure the infection than she was. Having no desire to say any of this aloud, Oralia drew a breath and picked up where she had left off.

    ¡°On its own, the infection is mild. I feel more drained than usual, but it is not unbearable. When paired with the powerstone, however, it can,¡± she paused, reluctant to share this part as the only other people who knew were those closest to her. ¡°...It speaks to me.¡±

    Briony¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°It what?¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± She pressed her index finger to the side of her head. ¡°Telepathically. In the same way Whisper used to.¡±

    ¡°So why wear the stone then? Why not delegate it to someone else, or just, I don¡¯t know, not wear it at all? Keep it confined somewhere safe?¡±

    ¡°Ralizak would tell you it is because I am an unwavering martyr that enjoys making myself suffer.¡± It wasn¡¯t wrong, Oralia supposed. ¡°The truth is, I cannot afford to have the stone fall into the wrong hands. Between the constant travel and rearranging and repacking of bags, having the pendant misplaced or stolen was simply too great of a risk to gamble. Carrying the stone comes with its own downsides, which is why I took on the task personally.¡±

    Sascha and Rali insisted on taking turns as well, but that was not something Oralia felt the need to share. Briony had the information she needed. And, judging by the pinched look on her face, she was sifting through it very carefully for all the little details Oralia didn¡¯t say.

    ¡°Gods, woman,¡± the faun muttered at last with a disapproving shake of her horns. ¡°You are the living epitome of pigheadedness.¡±

    ¡°So I am told. Quite often.¡± Oralia eased into a sitting position a little less murderous on her back, pausing to wait for the room to stop spinning, before speaking through her tusks. ¡°Now that I have satisfied your curiosity and, hopefully, reservations as to why I am here, I would appreciate it if you would point me in the direction of my team.¡±

    Briony¡¯s attempt to withhold her laughter resulted in a choking snort instead. She dipped forward, holding her shaking sides as if Oralia had told a particularly humorous quip. ¡°Oh you precious thing. You¡¯re just not accustomed to anyone else being in charge, are you? You may as well make yourself comfortable. Neither of us are leaving this room until I learn how you killed the fire elemental.¡±

 182 - Logical Solutions For An Illogical Problem

    Briony¡¯s tea had to have gone cold by now. The faun didn¡¯t appear to notice. She continued to swirl the lukewarm beverage with slow, deliberate twirls of her spoon as she sat on the edge of the green settee, looking every inch like a hungry lioness poised to pounce. Her amber eyes narrowed, allowing a haughty smile to pull at the corner of her mouth. ¡°Thought I wouldn¡¯t notice, did you? You gave more information than I expected, I¡¯ll grant you that. But the way you skirted around your encounter with a fire elemental was quite telling.¡±

    Shit.

    Oralia had been so careful too. While the obvious answer was to lie, she feared Briony would see right through her deceit. The alternative, unfortunately, wasn¡¯t any better. The truth was so utterly outlandish that anyone with a lick of common sense would dismiss it as pure fantasy. Oralia sighed, running a calloused hand down her broad face. ¡°I had hoped it would slip your notice.¡±

    Briony¡¯s ears flicked in irritation. The leathery snap wasn¡¯t nearly as threatening as a hoof stomp, but the warning to stop testing her patience came through crystal clear regardless. ¡°Stalling isn¡¯t going to reunite you with your team any faster. As I said before, I need to know what sort of trouble you¡¯re in before it becomes my own.¡±

    Sascha is out there searching for you right now. Probably thinks you¡¯re dead. The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can ease his suffering. Maybe he¡¯ll even feed you when he¡¯s done lamenting over the loss of his favorite pot.

    Reluctantly Oralia opted for the truth. ¡°The fire elemental and I crossed paths during an ambush. I and another member of my team were out fetching water when we were set upon by her and her bandits. My companion and I ran in opposite directions to divide their numbers.¡±

    Okay, mostly the truth. Oralia¡¯s recount was, admittedly, an over-generous description for what truly happened. It certainly beat ¡®my idiot companion ran screaming at the first sign of danger¡¯. Oralia continued, gaze focused on the rhythmic stir of Briony¡¯s spoon as she spoke. ¡°The fire elemental took chase and used her magic to corner me with the intent to kill. Nearly succeeded, in fact.¡±

    The stench of smoke and burnt hair flooded Oralia¡¯s senses once more. The flush of heat that scorched the skin on her forehead was at odds with the ice thrumming deep within her aching bones. Her heartbeat galloped along, steadily gaining speed, like a runaway horse. The only thing that kept Oralia centered was the mesmeric stir of Briony¡¯s spoon. She kept her gaze locked on it, fighting the growing swell of panic stirring to life from within.

    ¡°By all rights you should be dead.¡±

    ¡°I should,¡± Oralia agreed, marveling at how hollow the words came across.

    ¡°And yet you¡¯re not. How?¡±

    ¡°The dark entity saved me. As I am its host, it is reliant on me for survival. The one thing I cannot provide is food. The same could not be said for the fire elemental. Her mistake was trapping us together. At such close proximity, the entity used the elemental¡¯s magic to jump hosts, or at least a piece of it did, in order to feed.¡± The words flowing from her mouth did not sound like her own. Oralia felt detached, as if severed from her mind and body, allowed to sit back as an unconscious part of her filled in the necessary blanks. ¡°The spirit consumed the witch from the inside out in a matter of seconds.¡±

    Briony¡¯s hand froze in place, halting the rhythmic stir of her spoon. The faun¡¯s amber eyes were wide and rimmed in white. She said nothing, resigned to an alarmed silence as she mentally sifted through Oralia¡¯s recount, arranging and rearranging the pieces to make sense of it all.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what sort of answer I was expecting,¡± Briony said. ¡°Admittedly not¡­that.¡±

    ¡°You actually believe me?¡±

    ¡°I wish I didn¡¯t, but yes. That¡¯s far too creative for you to have come up with on your own.¡± Slowly, Briony started up her stirring again, too caught in thought to notice the drop of brown liquid that dribbled down the side of her cup and landed between the folds of her skirt. ¡°You realize what sort of problem this powerstone presents, right?¡±

    Problem was a gross understatement. In the wrong hands, the wielder could use the powerstone to wipe out the world¡¯s most powerful witches without having to lift a finger. It came at the cost of playing host to an evil entity, of course, but Oralia suspected that wouldn¡¯t deter those hungriest for power. ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°This is the sort of problem I didn¡¯t want to welcome into my home, Oralia.¡±

    ¡°You could solve that by allowing me to walk out.¡±

    ¡°No, I know about its existence now. I may not have much of a conscience, but there¡¯s enough of one to realize that would be a bad idea.¡± Briony drew a breath of incense-infused air in through her nostrils and out her mouth, before summoning the courage to ask, ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve tried destroying the stone?¡±

    Ah yes, the desperate search for a logical solution to an illogical problem. Oralia knew that dance all too well. ¡°The stone cannot be destroyed by ordinary means. Believe me, we tried. Daana and I nearly died when Ellisar cast it into the fire. The answer, I fear, is in its creation. The powerstone was created by magic and, therefore, can only be destroyed by magic.¡±

    ¡°Magic?¡±

    Oralia was fairly certain she¡¯d said the word correctly. She was not given the opportunity to confirm her statement as Briony gave a sudden snap of her fingers. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re here!¡±

    Confused, Oralia said nothing, allowing the faun to reveal whatever thoughts were racing behind her wide, gleaming eyes. It was not a long wait, fortunately.

    ¡°Oralia, you snake.¡± The contemplative look slipped from Briony¡¯s face and was replaced with a sly smile. She shook her fuzzy head, chuckling, ¡°You were lying through your teeth before, weren¡¯t you? And to think I fell for it so easily.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    Briony lifted the spoon from her teacup and set it daintily onto the side table beside her. ¡°You¡¯re not here for Faris. You¡¯re here to seek Novera¡¯s help regarding the powerstone and its hold on you.¡±

    ¡°Novera Belfast?¡± Oralia failed to see what connection existed between the infection coursing through her veins and Faris¡¯s mother. ¡°I am afraid I do not follow.¡±

    ¡°Oh please, you can stop pretending. Finding Faris was a believable cover while it lasted, but I¡¯ve seen through it now. There¡¯s no sense in sticking with an obvious lie.¡±

    Oralia allowed her confused silence to speak on her behalf.

    ¡°That is why you¡¯re here, isn¡¯t it?¡± Several more uncomfortable seconds lapsed before Briony realized her error in judgment. A sheepish blush transformed her tanned cheeks a warm shade of pink. ¡°Oh good gods, you really don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°Obviously not.¡±

    Briony lowered the untouched cup of tea and rested it against the top of her legs. ¡°Huh.¡±

    The faun¡¯s sudden, tight-lipped silence was telling. Alas, for the life of her, Oralia couldn¡¯t pinpoint what information she was supposed to be gleaning from it. And, at the moment, it wasn¡¯t her primary concern. Her first priority was reuniting with those still looking for her. ¡°I am unaware of what Novera Belfast brings to the equation. If she is able to assist in any way, I will gladly seek her out but, as I mentioned before, I am here to find Faris. The realm cannot be allowed to use him to get to Rasp. Finding Faris first seemed like the obvious way to prevent this.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Briony¡¯s ears lowered as if having difficulty coming to terms with this information. ¡°That¡¯s really the only reason you¡¯re here? You¡¯re not here for Novera? Or on the behalf of the resistance, maybe?¡±

    ¡°I am in no way affiliated with the Sons and Daughters of Resistance.¡± Oralia was quick to stamp out that misconception.

    Unfortunately, it did not seem to matter as Briony regurgitated the same misinformation Oralia had been combatting for months. ¡°Everyone else seems to think otherwise. Your fellow figureheads, for one. According to the realm, you single handedly spearheaded the rebellion yourself.¡±

    Oralia pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, ¡°I helped move witches from the realm into the flatlands to keep them out of the hands of the Division of Divination. That was as far as my involvement went. It was not my intention for my actions to devolve into a full blown war.¡±

    ¡°But it did. And now you¡¯re helping.¡±

    ¡°I helped Adderwood obtain its independence. Did I assist with the rebellion? Yes. Was it on the behalf of the Sons and Daughters of Resistance? No. I have no issue helping the people win their freedom. I draw the line at transferring the reins of power from the hands of one power-hungry dictator to that of another.¡±

    ¡°...Oh.¡±

    Oralia raised her eyebrow at the crestfallen faun. ¡°Why does this knowledge upset you?¡±

    Briony stared at the worn floorboards as she spoke. ¡°The realm¡¯s taken Lonebrook hostage. They came looking for Faris, as you suspected, but the little weasel managed to slip their nets. Geralt¡¯s got a stranglehold on the village. He¡¯s trying to lure Faris back by tightening the noose around the people¡¯s necks. When we found you, I had hoped that it was on the behalf of the resistance. That you were here to free us, as you had Adderwood.¡±

    It was Oralia¡¯s turn to utter, ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. For a second I thought maybe we had a chance. I¡¯ll save you from wasting any more of your time. Faris isn¡¯t here. I haven¡¯t heard from him in months.¡± Briony¡¯s crestfallen stare swept to the window, adding, ¡°Novera might have some secret means to contact him, though.¡±

    Oralia considered this information. It was bait, most likely. A last-ditch attempt to rope her into another rebellion without begging for her help. ¡°If Geralt has the village on lockdown, as you say, I imagine securing an audience with Novera would be next to impossible then?¡±

    Having given up on actually drinking her tea, Briony set it into the small side table next to the spoon. ¡°Difficult, not impossible. That is with the right help, of course.¡±

    ¡°And the price for securing this help?¡±

    Briony dropped her act for what might have been the first time in, well probably ever, really. Her amber eyes widened and her ears drooped, looking like a shivering dog begging to be let inside. ¡°Stay? Help us? There are a lot of good people trapped in that village. The realm is growing impatient. It won¡¯t be long before they start applying the pressure. And unfortunately, it¡¯s going to be to our necks.¡±

    Oralia ignored the urge to blindly agree. ¡°I cannot make a decision of this magnitude on my own. Your cause is worthy, make no mistake. But I am one person, and I cannot dictate the lives of my team without consulting them first.¡±

    The puppy dog expression faded and Briony¡¯s face went blank once more. ¡°The only leverage I have over you right now is that you are separated from them. Bringing them in before a deal has been struck defeats the whole purpose.¡±

    Oralia pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders. She couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d felt this cold. She was indoors, protected from the elements and still, she was shaking like a damn leaf. ¡°This may come as a surprise to you, Briony, but it is not always necessary to use blackmail in order to get me to do something. I helped Adderwood without them having to resort to extortion.¡±

    ¡°Adderwood had an army,¡± Briony replied.

    That much was true. And, without knowing the numbers or the stakes, it was a factor that was definitely going to weigh heavily on Oralia¡¯s decision. She wasn¡¯t going to say that of course. First and foremost, Oralia had to assure Briony that she would not turn and run the moment she was reunited with her team. ¡°You implied that Novera may have insight about¨C¡± she gestured to the dark veins branching beneath her collarbones ¡°¨Cthis?¡±

    The faun perked up a little. ¡°No promises, but this sort of thing is up her alley.¡±

    ¡°And she may have a way of contacting Faris?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡±

    ¡°Then that alone is enough to at least stay and consider our options.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll go fetch your precious team. But if any of them try to stab me, I¡¯m not above shattering kneecaps!¡± With a breathy snort, the little faun stood.

    Oralia attempted to do the same with less success. A withering glare from her host prompted Oralia to sink back down onto the floor.

    ¡°I said me, not you. For the gods¡¯ sakes, woman. You¡¯re in no shape to go trampling through a forest.¡±

    Oralia had to give credit where credit was due. For being nearly two full heads shorter than her, Briony could certainly put on an intimidating front when she wanted to. The orc lifted her hands in defeat. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±

    Briony went over the house rules, accentuating each command with a hoof stomp. ¡°No leaving the house. Don¡¯t go through my shit. If you see any soldiers, run. If you get caught, you and I never saw each other.¡±

    Oralia considered pointing out that the ¡®no leaving the house¡¯ rule was in direct conflict with the ¡®run in the case of soldiers¡¯ rule. Not wanting to make an issue of it, she bit back her tongue and offered a nod of confirmation instead. ¡°Understood. I will stay here and await your return.¡±

    Oralia waited for Briony to leave before dragging her aching carcass back over to the makeshift bed on the floor. It was a pathetic, undignified, and horrifically painful process that Oralia did not wish for anyone to witness, especially not the person who was depending on her to save their village. Briony knew she was weak, undoubtedly. It just made Oralia feel better not having her watch.

    Oralia eased into the nest of soft pillows and blankets. She had no intention of sleeping, but the quiet combined with the velvety softness of the cot soon lulled her into a dreamless slumber.

 183 - One Of Those Living Dead Situations

    ¡°Welp, it¡¯s official. The boss¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not dead. For fuck¡¯s sake, Lingon, she was snoring when we walked in.¡±

    ¡°T¡¯was but a death rattle, dear brother.¡±

    The voices, one thin and nasally and the other deep and guttural, roused Oralia from her dreamless sleep. Her heavy eyelids eased open to find two human men crouched on either side of her. Regrettably, she recognized the pair instantly.

    ¡°Not dead,¡± Mul grunted at his brother. ¡°Told you.¡±

    Lingon peered closer, brushing a stray lock of long brown hair from his narrow face. ¡°How do we know this isn¡¯t one of those living dead situations?¡±

    ¡°Because she¡¯s not dead! You want me to kill her to prove it to you?¡±

    Oralia held up her hand, wincing at the effort it took to stay Mul from drawing his sword. ¡°That will not be necessary, thank you.¡±

    Lingon narrowed his eyes at her. ¡°Just what an undead would say.¡±

    Clenching her jaw, Oralia heaved forward into a sitting position. Pain lanced up her spine and erupted within her aching skull like a lightning strike, spawning a cloud of blinding spots that blinked along the edges of her vision. A crippling wave of nausea followed. Oralia closed her eyes and breathed through it. It was only after the tightness in chest and abdomen had eased that she regained the ability to form words.

    ¡°Where are the others?¡±

    ¡°Still tearing the forest apart looking for you, probably.¡± Mul straightened his posture. He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and swaggered a few steps away, eyeing the yellow walls in search of something worthy of his attention. ¡°Me an¡¯ Dingleberry were actually not far from here. We¡¯d found a hidden trail and were following it when this mouthy little faun popped up out of nowhere, insisting she knew your whereabouts.¡±

    Oralia found that scenario highly unlikely for several reasons. One, as Briony possessed a fully functioning sense of self-preservation, she would have known not to approach either Mul or Lingon outright. Secondly, of the many, many qualities the Stoneclaw brothers lacked, a deep distrust of strangers was not one of them. The pair would have never blindly followed a strange faun into the woods.

    She clicked her tusks softly and sighed. ¡°None of that is true.¡±

    ¡°That bit about us being close by was!¡±

    ¡°We did actually find a secret trail,¡± Lingon insisted. His reluctant expression implied there was more to the story than either of them were letting on. Fortunately it took only a few seconds of uninterrupted eye contact to coax the rest of it out of him. Lingon hurried through it, hopeful, perhaps, that if he blurted it out all in one breath, Oralia would only catch half of what was said.

    ¡°And then we came across this giant tree and I bet Mul I could climb to the top faster than him. While I was proving my mettle, a faun came up out of nowhere and stole our packs. We raced after her and it wasn¡¯t until we got to this here cottage that the little thief announced that you were inside and that if we didn¡¯t believe her, we could go see for ourselves.¡± He dipped forward, small chest heaving as he gulped in a giant breath of air. ¡°There, happy?¡±

    Mul nodded in agreement. ¡°The faun also said not to steal her shit before disappearing back into the woods. Which seems a little hypocritical, if you ask me.¡±

    Oralia mentally sifted through the wealth over-information for the important pieces. Her efforts produced only one. ¡°Briony is not here?¡±

    ¡°Fetching the others, likely,¡± Mul said, scratching the underside of his beard. ¡°We broke up into groups for the search. Most of them went in the other direction.¡±

    ¡°The whole camp was worried sick about you.¡± Lingon moved to the red brick fireplace and busied himself with rifling through the trinkets carefully arranged along the mantle. ¡°Not me an¡¯ Mul, obviously. But everyone else¡¯s been tearing the woods apart trying to figure out what happened to you after the bandit attack.¡±

    The mention of the attack sparked Oralia¡¯s memory. She lifted her head from where it was buried between her hands. ¡°The bandits¨C¡±

    Mul cut her off with a flippant flick of his wrist. ¡°Didn¡¯t stand a chance. Thanks to Kalihn¡¯s screaming, we heard them coming a mile away. It wasn¡¯t until after we made short work of them that we realized you were still missing. And then we saw the smoke in the distance, but when we got there, all that was left was charred remains.¡±

    While Mul¡¯s brief explanation answered most of her questions, it inadvertently sparked several more. Most notably, whether or not the added stress had caused Sascha¡¯s hair to go gray. Perhaps it had simply skipped that step and fallen out entirely. Her fuckmate worried excessively over even the most mundane of things. Oralia hated to imagine what sort of toll an actual crisis was taking upon him.

    ¡°And Sascha?¡± she asked timidly.

    ¡°In a fucking mood,¡± Mul replied.

    Lingon spun around on his heel, throwing his slender arms out at his sides. ¡°He kept going, morning, noon, and night, insisting he wouldn¡¯t stop until he found you. And of course all the rest of us felt bad, so we kept going too. Sascha refused all breaks. Wouldn¡¯t even stop to catch his breath. You should ¡®ave seen the look he gave me when I politely asked him to stop and make me a sandwich!¡±

    Oralia was spared from replying by a sudden, unexpected tap at the window. She twisted her head in the direction of the noise, squinting through the barrage of sunlight filtering in from outside. ¡°What is that?¡±

    Both brothers acted strangely indifferent to the ominous tapping. Together, they answered as one, ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°It is not nothing.¡± In addition to the increasingly loud tapping, Oralia swore she heard the harsh, rattling croak of a raven. ¡°There is a bird outside clearly trying to garner your attention.¡±

    Now that she thought of it, this was not the first time either. While Rasp may have been the only one of his people capable of understanding the ravens, it did not stop the ravens from communicating with the rest of the family. Trying to communicate, anyway, as Mul and Lingon obviously had no intention of listening.

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    Lingon stormed across the room and threw the window open. ¡°Go away! We already told you, we¡¯re not interested!¡±

    The raven fluttered past him and circled the room twice before coming to rest on the green settee. Ruffling its feathery head, the raven slung open its cavernous maw and argued back just as loudly.

    Oralia¡¯s sharp eyes spied something fastened to its spindly leg. ¡°It appears to have a message for you.¡±

    Mul dropped onto the opposite side of the couch with a huff, glaring daggers at the noisy bird. ¡°Yeah, we know. And I guarantee you it says the same thing as the last three.¡±

    Lingon paced in front of the couch, pointing his finger at the raven as he passed. ¡°And you can tell that ugly fuck that our answer is still no. We¡¯re not coming home. He can have the throne. We don¡¯t bloody care!¡±

    Throne? The use of the word had Oralia¡¯s thoughts churning. She strung the bits and pieces of information together until it produced something, if not cohesive, then as close to it as she was going to get. ¡°Lingon,¡± Oralia said, taking care to keep her voice level. He already looked like a spooked horse prepared to bolt. There was no sense in sending him dashing out the front door prematurely. At least not until her curiosity was satiated. ¡°Has Bil been trying to reach you this entire time?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Lingon scoffed, still nervously pacing. ¡°No. Of course not.¡±

    Bil Stoneclaw, the eldest and possibly most competent of the royal siblings, had vacated Mount Hook prior to the battle. With their home destroyed and their warring neighbors in an active scramble to seize territory, Bil and the Stoneclaw clan had seemingly vanished without a trace. Until now, Oralia had been under the impression that Mul and Lingon had hung around simply because they didn¡¯t know where to go next.

    Bil, evidently, was not the only Stoneclaw to have gone into hiding. ¡°How long has your brother been trying to reach you?¡±

    Lingon had the expression of a child caught pinching sweets from the kitchen. Stifling a groan, he collapsed onto the ancient settee beside Mul, uncaring of the fact that he nearly squashed the raven messenger doing so. Lingon ran a lithe hand over his face and groaned. ¡°I don¡¯t know. A few weeks maybe? A month, tops.¡±

    ¡°I do not understand,¡± Oralia said. ¡°You told me you did not know the location of your clan. I thought it was the only reason keeping you here. When the truth is, not only do you know where Bil is, but he has been summoning you home, and you could have been well on your way a month ago?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Lingon¡¯s face reddened as his gaze dropped sheepishly to his feet. ¡°The thing is we don¡¯t want to go home.¡±

    ¡°Come again?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t want to go home, alright? This is the most adventure Mul an¡¯ I have ever had and the thought of going back is just¡­well, horrible.¡±

    Mul nudged Lingon in the ribs with his elbow, murmuring, ¡°Tell her about the banana.¡±

    Lingon elbowed him back twice as hard. ¡°I don¡¯t want to tell her about the stupid banana!¡±

    ¡°We tried a banana for the first time back in Adderwood.¡± Mul grudgingly took on the task himself. His eyes were wide and his expression was unusually sincere. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know such a thing existed. It was the best thing I¡¯d ever tasted. I ain¡¯t ever going to see another one of those if I go back to the Iron Ridge.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s tone was woefully unimpressed. ¡°A banana?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not just the banana.¡± Lingon tried to explain their reasoning better which, for whatever reason, involved an excessive amount of hand gestures. He grasped at the air with his fingers as if plucking the answer from nothing. ¡°The banana is just, I don¡¯t know, symbolic of everything we haven¡¯t tried, I guess?¡±

    Oralia wished there was someone else present with whom she could exchange confused glances. Her only option was the raven, however. And she was not quite prepared to stoop to that level of desperation yet. ¡°If you stay, you forfeit your claim to the throne. Neither of you can lead your people if you are not with them.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we considered that.¡± Lingon continued talking to his shoes, unwilling to meet Oralia¡¯s unflinching stare. ¡°Bil can have it. It¡¯s better he doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s missing, else you¡¯d have one more of us tagging along after you. Seven realms, probably a whole clan.¡±

    ¡°I do not want a clan behind me! Not even one as formidable as the Stoneclaws.¡± Oralia¡¯s unexpected outburst was as much of a surprise to the brothers as it was to her. ¡°This is only temporary. I have no intention of traveling the land and freeing each individual territory from realm control one after the other.¡±

    Mul nudged Lingon with his shoulder as a grin slowly pulled across his bearded face. ¡°Temporary, right.¡±

    The younger brother nodded his agreement. ¡°She¡¯s got the fever something fierce.¡±

    Although Oralia understood the majority of the words that came from the pair, their meaning was often lost in translation. This case being no exception. Oralia attempted to massage the growing ache from her temples. ¡°I am not ill.¡±

    ¡°Martyr fever,¡± Lingon clarified. ¡°You can act detached all you want, but it¡¯s as plain as the tusks on your face. You could have been free of this mess months ago, but each time you were given the chance to step back, you plunged right back in. This ¡®temporary¡¯ schtick ain¡¯t fooling anyone but yourself.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Her voice trailed as she could not outright deny it. If it was this obvious to these two, it meant everyone else already knew as well. Everyone but herself, of course. That seemed to be the nature of how this sort of thing worked. Oralia was always the last to fully understand her own motivations. ¡°I do not wish to talk about it.¡±

    Although the pair themselves said nothing, the smug delight on their faces assured Oralia that her days of secrecy were long gone. Somewhere along the line she¡¯d become completely transparent. Not that she was about to open that up for discussion either. ¡°You are the subject here, not me,¡± she said sternly. ¡°Am I to understand that the two of you would rather follow me, to your own detriment, possibly death, than return to your people?¡±

    ¡°Why is this so hard for you to wrap your head around?¡± Mul¡¯s eyebrows shot high on his head, as though offended by the very question itself. ¡°Our lives were utterly boring before all this. All we did was drink and fight each other.¡±

    ¡°That is all you do now,¡± Oralia reminded him.

    ¡°Not true. We fight other people now too.¡±

    ¡°And make love afterwards.¡± Lingon added, quickly, ¡°With other folks, not each other. Or the dead bodies.¡±

    ¡°So glad you clarified that last part,¡± Mul told him.

    ¡°Shut up!¡±

    Oralia had always kept strange company. She supposed this wasn¡¯t any stranger than her previous team. More annoying, perhaps. On some level she almost felt honored. To have not one, but two capable Stoneclaw warriors in her personal company spoke volumes. Their impact probably would have been more meaningful could she convince them to let their reputation speak for itself, versus opening their mouths to let every thought pass through unchecked. And yet, mouthiness aside, the pair would be imperative to the trials that loomed ahead. Possibly enough to swing the fate of Lonebrook in her favor.

    Lingon lifted his head curiously. ¡°Anybody else feel the ground shaking?¡±

    Mul rose and hurried across the room, poking his head out the open window to get a better view. ¡°Looks like the mouthy faun found the rest of the party, after all.¡± He glanced over his shoulder at Oralia and waggled his eyebrows in a manner that begged to be slapped. ¡°Your beau looks to be in an awful hurry. Do you think he¡¯ll slow down or just snap the door off its hinges on his way in?¡±

    Oralia rose onto stiff legs and reached for Mul, using him as a means to keep her balance. He didn¡¯t offer much in the way of support, but at least he didn¡¯t shrug her off. Every step was excruciating. Oralia stubbornly persisted, shuffling one foot in front of the other, knowing speed was of the essence.

    ¡°If you want to sleep with a roof over your head tonight,¡± she said, gasping as a surge of pins and needles moved down her legs, ¡°get me outside before he knocks the whole fucking house down.¡±

 184 - Too Stubborn to Die

    Three days passed since Oralia first awoke in an unfamiliar cottage. Three. Blasted. Days. And still, the unsteady tremble in her hands persisted. Thanks to the uncontrollable tremors, even the most mundane of activities had become a challenge. Eating, in particular, topped the list. The few times she managed to get a spoon to her mouth without spilling its contents down the front of her tunic were for naught, as the food came back up almost as quickly as it went down.

    And, as if body trembles and the constant, pendulous swing between ravenous and nauseous wasn¡¯t enough, her sleep was plagued by unrelenting nightmares as well. Each time Oralia closed her eyes, the fire elemental¡¯s death replayed over and over. No amount of meditation or concentrated thought helped. Her dreams ended the same regardless¨Ctrapped within a ring of red and orange crackling flames, choking on stomach acid as the putrid stench of singed hair and flesh slowly filled her blistered lungs.

    Worst of all was the toll her recent inflictions had taken on her temper. Her former sense of patience was gone. Oralia found herself short, snippy, and acting so utterly out of character, she feared her mind was ripping apart at the seams. Her team graciously took it all in stride. Too graciously, which revulsed her even more. The lack of back-talk, the pitiful glances any time her hands spasmed beyond her control, the way everyone suddenly volunteered for extra work outside of the cottage¨Cit was belittling in the worst of ways.

    Briony¡¯s homestead was situated several miles outside of the village of Lonebrook, hidden so deep within the trees, the realm soldiers had yet to find her. Briony insisted Oralia¡¯s team would be safe so long as no one did anything to draw unwanted attention. In spite of the warning, Rali, the unofficial face of unwanted attention, convinced Briony to take her closer to town. They were there now, with Dewpetal in tow, scouting the outskirts of Lonebrook for whatever it was Rali was looking for.

    Mul and Lingon were quick to follow Rali¡¯s lead and slipped away soon after, promising on each other¡¯s lives that they would stay out of trouble. For reasons unknown, their errand involved taking Kalihn with them. Kalihn normally avoided the brothers like the plague. Evidently she wanted to avoid the cottage even more, as she readily accepted their invitation to leave without any of her usual bellyaching.

    ¡°Moonflower,¡± Sascha¡¯s voice disrupted Oralia¡¯s internal stewing, ¡°is something upsetting you?¡±

    Oralia ceased drumming her fingers absentmindedly against the linen tablecloth. She was seated at the table tucked into the corner of the balmy kitchen. Sascha was across from her, laboring away on another broth. This one smelled faintly of ginger, garlic, and green onion. ¡°Not at all. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re grumbling under your breath over there like a badger in heat.¡±

    What a horrifically descriptive comparison. At least he had the decency to call her a badger and not a sow, she supposed.

    Sascha had his back to her, scraping a handful of finely minced herbs from the cutting board into the cauldron hanging over the fire. He normally hummed while he worked, but today his carefree noises were strangely absent. ¡°Are you sure there isn¡¯t something eating at you?¡±

    ¡°A dark entity.¡±

    Oralia heard the exasperated click of his tusks from all the way across the room. Had her answer been overly-literal? Of course. But honestly, Sascha should have known better. Ridiculous questions deserved equally ridiculous answers.

    Sascha kept his eyes on his work as he used a broad, wooden spoon to stir the pot¡¯s simmering contents. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Nothing at all.¡± As if on cue, her left hand spasmed, causing her fingers to curl painfully in on themselves. Oralia slammed the flat of her palm against the table and held it there. She gave her right hand the side-eye, warning it to stay in line else it would suffer the same fate as the left. ¡°Do not even think about it,¡± she cautioned. ¡°I am not above drawing blood.¡±

    Her gaze returned to Sascha and she discovered he was staring over his shoulder at her with both eyebrows raised high on his forehead and mouth held slightly agape.

    ¡°What?¡± Oralia demanded.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one threatening your own appendages, Moonflower. You tell me.¡±

    Oralia released her hand from the table and curled it into a tightly clenched fist. ¡°I have, admittedly, not been feeling like myself lately.¡±

    ¡°I noticed,¡± Sascha assured her. ¡°Which is why I bribed the others to make themselves scarce for the evening. It¡¯s time to stop tiptoeing around the issue and address it head on.¡±

    Dear gods help her. She¡¯d been a little crankier than usual, yes. But surely not anything intervention-worthy! Also, why hadn¡¯t any of the others warned her? At least given her a head start. Useless legs be damned, Oralia would have made it work. She sank lower onto the wooden bench as she studied the exit from the corner of her eye, all the while wondering if it was too late to slip out the back door and catch up to Rali and Briony. She could drag herself the whole way if need be.

    Sascha turned to face her, wiping his gargantuan hands on his flower print apron as he did. His expression fell the moment he saw her face. ¡°Why do you look like a child about to be reprimanded?¡±

    ¡°Because I feel like I am about to be reprimanded.¡±

    ¡°I mean, if that¡¯s what you want.¡± Sascha narrowed one eye as he wagged his spoon at her playfully. ¡°Eat all of your dinner or it¡¯s straight to bed.¡±

    While he had meant it as teasing, she was seriously considering the straight to bed option.

    Sascha withdrew a set of wooden bowls from the cupboard and held the pair in one hand whilst ladling hot soup with the other. He delivered both bowls of steaming broth to the table without spilling a drop. He offered Oralia a gentle smile, under the false assumption that a little reassurance would be enough to keep her from bolting the moment he sat down.

    ¡°It¡¯s just me, Moonflower. I won¡¯t say a word if you drop the soup. There¡¯s always plenty more.¡± A look, caught somewhere between genuine concern and playfulness, pulled at the corners of Sascha¡¯s eyes as he eased onto the bench beside her. ¡°I could try spoon feeding you again if you wanted. You might get more in your mouth if you refrained from biting me this time.¡±

    She refused to let his charm soothe her fraying nerves. ¡°Stop trying to flirt with me. You said there was an issue to be addressed. Seven realms, get it over with before I die of suspense.¡±

    Oh gods. Too harsh, Oralia realized as the smile slipped from Sascha¡¯s mouth and transformed into a pained grimace. Moisture started to collect around the edges of his sorrowful eyes. Oralia reached for his hand, the words already curling over her tongue, when he beat her to it.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Sascha said.

    ¡°No, do not be.¡± She winced. ¡°That was uncalled for.¡±

    He flipped his hand over and clasped hers with a gentle squeeze. ¡°I sent the others away because I have some groveling to do. The soup is my very pathetic attempt at an apology. The start of one, anyway.¡±

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    And here Oralia thought she could not possibly have been anymore confused. She should have been the one begging for forgiveness, not him. ¡°I do not follow.¡±

    ¡°I was reckless and put you in danger,¡± he started. ¡°I was the one who sent Kalihn with you to fetch water the day of the attack. She was annoying me. I thought it would be more fun if she annoyed you instead. My carelessness nearly got you killed.¡±

    Oralia waited for more. When Sascha¡¯s agonizing admission stopped there, she was forced to ask, ¡°Is that all?¡±

    ¡°I understand if you want space. I can sleep in another room, or outside if you would prefer¨C¡±

    ¡°No need. You are forgiven.¡±

    He blinked several times, struggling to come to terms with her response. ¡°Just like that?¡±

    There wasn¡¯t anything to forgive as far as Oralia was concerned. She¡¯d merely said it to stop him from making a fool of himself. Oralia reached for her bowl and raised it to her mouth, fighting to control the unsteady tremble in her hands. The broth was light and savory, with a pleasant kick of heat at the end. ¡°Ellisar used to try to kill me all the time. Kept me on my toes. She came to the eventual conclusion that I am simply too stubborn to die.¡±

    Come to think of it, Ellisar might have actually said stupid, not stubborn.

    ¡°Oralia, please,¡± Sascha said. ¡°You¡¯ve been in a silent rage for the last three days. Will you stop pretending that everything is okay between us? You¡¯re allowed to be mad at me.¡±

    Half of that statement was true. Not the critical part, through. Oralia set the bowl back onto the table, fighting the sudden urge to roll her eyes. ¡°Sascha, I am not mad at you.¡±

    ¡°You threatened to disembowel Lingon earlier.¡±

    ¡°Because he was chewing with his mouth open like a damn horse!¡± Oralia said. Unfortunately, Sascha¡¯s resulting stretch of silence left her with no other choice but to explain herself. ¡°I am mad at my circumstances. Not you.¡±

    ¡°Well you should be mad at me.¡±

    ¡°Should I be?¡± Oralia repeated, feeling the floodgates of rampaging emotions begin to open. No, no, no, not now. Not here. Hold it together!

    Unfortunately, like the rest of her confounded body, her tongue rebelled, spilling every volatile emotion churning within her tightening chest. ¡°My own body is betraying me. And you think I should hold you accountable for that? Should I blame you for the nightmares as well? Why stop there? I could blame you for the way I wake up each morning weaker than the last. Or how my strength does not recover the way it used to? Is that what you want to hear, love? That this is all your fault somehow?¡±

    ¡°You almost died.¡±

    ¡°I almost die all of the time!¡±

    He wrapped one burly arm behind her back and tugged her closer. The tightness felt good, even if she didn¡¯t want to admit it. Regrettably, instead of simply accepting her forgiveness and fetching her another bowl of soup, the big lug kept trying to assuage his guilt. ¡°How can you say that? How can you dismiss it so casually like it¡¯s nothing?¡±

    ¡°Because the alternative is not any better. I will let you handle the dwelling for both of us.¡±

    Unfortunately, he did just that. ¡°This is twice now I thought I had lost you.¡±

    Twice that Sascha knew of. Oralia decided against bringing up all the other near-death experiences she hadn¡¯t bothered to tell him about.

    Sascha buried his face into her neck. His hot breath tickled her skin as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m not sure anyone else would have survived what you did.¡±

    Oralia hadn¡¯t spoken in depth about what had transpired with the witch. Other than a short, not-entirely-accurate description, she avoided even thinking about it. Not that that was successful considering she still saw Grettie¡¯s face each time she closed her eyes. She tried to play it off as a joke but her words rang hollow instead. ¡°As I said, too stubborn to die.¡±

    ¡°Will you please take this seriously? Briony says they pulled you out of a fire, Oralia. Most people don¡¯t survive being engulfed in fire.¡±

    She supposed now was not the time to argue semantics and point out that she had been inside the wall of fire, not engulfed by it. Additionally, the flames had already extinguished by the time help arrived. Alas, stating ¡®they found me in a smoldering ring of ash next to the burnt corpse of the deranged witch that tried to kill me¡¯ would not have helped her case in the way she wanted.

    Against every instinct urging her to turn this into a heated debate, Oralia bit back the poison on her tongue and leaned into him. She reached up and threaded her fingers into the curl of Sascha¡¯s beard, feeling every shake and tremble of his unsteady breath. ¡°I wish I could tell you that this was the last time. That, from here on out, I would avoid every risk to cross my path. But you and I both know that would be a lie.¡±

    Wordlessly, he squeezed her tighter.

    ¡°Assisting Lonebrook is going to put me right back in the path of death and danger,¡± Oralia reminded him.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t had your meeting with Novera yet. It¡¯s not too late to back out and give retirement a try.¡±

    A harsh laugh caught within Oralia¡¯s throat. It was woefully inappropriate given the utter lack of humor in her next words. ¡°For you, maybe. As Rali would say, ¡®that ship has sailed¡¯. I would not fault you for leaving, however.¡±

    ¡°Why would I leave?¡±

    ¡°Because I have already made up my mind.¡±

    ¡°You act like it¡¯s your job to save everyone. It¡¯s not. You are one person.¡±

    ¡°Believe it or not, but I am capable of being selfish as well. I am not trying to save everyone. I am trying to save myself.¡± Oralia peeled back her tunic to reveal her collarbones. As over-dramatic as the gesture may have been, she had every right to be as dramatic as she wanted. Her opportunities to embrace the melodramatic were running regretfully short. ¡°The infection has spread, Sascha. Time is not on my side. Any hope for a cure lies in the hands of Novera Belfast. That said, she cannot help me if she is dead.¡±

    At the very least, the reason for her underlying rage was becoming clearer now. Whatever Oralia did, no matter the choice she made, death awaited her at the end of each turn. The question was now whether she chose the short path, and fought, or opted for the slightly longer one, and spent her remaining time sipping soup with Sascha whilst her body slowly wasted away.

    There was no choice, as far as Oralia was concerned. Death by the sword was preferable to the agony of being consumed alive by a dark entity. ¡°I can either fight or I can run,¡± she said. ¡°There is a small chance I survive both the battle and the illness. Running, on the other hand, only postpones the inevitable. A few months, maybe. A year, tops. That is not a life I wish to live.¡±

    Sascha fell painfully silent. Fresh tears welled within his eyes as he slowly came to terms with the gravity of the situation. Oralia¡¯s attention swept back over the rest of the kitchen, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Unlike his hand, which she was currently squeezing to a pulp.

    ¡°How long have you known?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I knew something was off the moment I regained consciousness,¡± Oralia admitted. She had had her suspicions since the beginning, of course. But those had been easy to ignore, to shove into the far recesses of her mind in hopes that they would remain just that, unsubstantiated concerns. ¡°I chalked it up to exhaustion initially. But with a new ailment cropping up each day, I fear the incident with the fire elemental has accelerated the severity of my condition.¡±

    Her next words were the most painful to say. ¡°I am sorry, Sascha. I understand if this is too much to ask of you.¡±

    And there it was: the ultimatum she had unknowingly been fighting for the past three days. Perhaps the lashing out had merely been a last-ditch, subconscious effort to drive the others away, Sascha included. After all, just because Oralia had accepted her fate, didn¡¯t mean the others had to follow suit. They could go on to live perfectly happy lives without her.

    ¡°Seven realms, woman.¡± Sascha threw both arms around her and pulled her close, burying his face back into her neck. ¡°Stop being ridiculous. You know what my answer is.¡±

    Tears streamed freely down Oralia¡¯s face. Somewhere along the way she¡¯d forgotten how to breathe. She took in a sudden gasp of air, only now realizing how dry her throat felt.

    ¡°Did you think I was going to say something different?¡± Sascha demanded.

    ¡°Yes? I am being rather pigheaded right now.¡±

    ¡°That we can agree on.¡± Like his voice, Sascha¡¯s arms shuddered with each shaky breath. ¡°Just promise me you¡¯ll be more careful. Let someone else sacrifice themselves in the face of danger every once in a while, yeah?¡±

    A weak smile pulled at Oralia¡¯s mouth. ¡°But I am so good at it.¡±

    ¡°The best,¡± he agreed. ¡°I believe the run-in with the fire elemental has met your yearly quota, however. And, seeing as I cannot possibly stomach another heart attack, I think it¡¯s best you retire from that aspect of martyrdom.¡±

    Oralia held two fingers into the air. ¡°On my honor, I swear to never go near another fire elemental so long as I live.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Sascha gave her another loving squeeze. ¡°Now, I believe you mentioned something about nightmares? Want to tell me about those?¡±

    ¡°Fuck no. I am nauseous enough as it is, thank you.¡±

 185 - The Very Best Idea

    Croak, croak, croak! Dagmar¡¯s lecture carried far and wide on the cold morning breeze. Each obnoxious croak and caw bounced along trees, reverberating from one sagging pine to the next.

    It was morning, too early for the sun to be out judging from the gray shifting light. Plumes of mist wafted along the forest floor, soaking everything, including Rasp, to the bone. He sat in the center of the encampment with a blanket pulled tight over his shivering shoulders, listening as Hop and Whisper hurried about, preparing for their departure. June was off to the side, receiving a loving earful from their Aunt Dagmar. June herself said little, giving small grunts and sighs of acknowledgement every now and then, as if to confirm that she was indeed listening and not shriveling up inside from humiliation.

    Rasp wriggled the tip of his pinky finger into his ear with a grimace. He found himself in somewhat of an awkward situation. For what may very well have been the first time in existence, he was not the recipient of a raven¡¯s frenzied lecture. That in itself wasn¡¯t so bad, actually. It was the fact that he, unlike the others, understood every embarrassing word that spilled from the raven¡¯s croaking maw. He felt like a creep, listening in from the other side of a closed door on a deep, sentimental conversation.

    He also might have been a teeny, tiny bit jealous that no raven had ever showered him with such unbridled adoration.

    ¡°Are you sure Dagmar and June are both Stoneclaws?¡± Rasp whispered under his breath to Faris.

    Faris was hunched on the damp ground beside him, trying to savor a steaming cup of hot nettle tea. Trying being the keyword as there was no way in the seven realms of chaos anybody, not even stubborn Faris, could enjoy the taste of boiled spinach and dirt. ¡°Why?¡± the faun said, failing to stifle the reflexive gag after braving another sip. ¡°What¡¯s Dagmar saying?¡±

    ¡°Terrible things.¡±

    ¡°And what part of that strikes you as unusual? Sounds like typical Stoneclaw behavior to me.¡±

    ¡°No, not that kind of terrible. Terrible lovey-dovey things, Faris. Like ¡®I love you. Please don¡¯t do anything stupid. Watch out for cliffs, and deep running water, and consider everything out of your brother¡¯s mouth a lie.¡¯¡±

    Faris patted Rasp¡¯s back, feigning sympathy. ¡°Must be tough to learn that not everyone in your family is an asshole.¡±

    ¡°Drive that blade straight into my heart, why don¡¯t you?¡± Once upon a time, Rasp wouldn¡¯t have thought twice about smacking the faun upside the head for his blatant disrespect. Being a reformed person, however, came with changes. The most prominent was allowing his words to do all of his heavy hitting. ¡°You know, your in-depth knowledge of my family really speaks volumes about you, Dingle.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid to know what it says.¡±

    ¡°Really highlights your obsession for me. Not only do you have the ins and outs of my family dynamics committed to memory, but you apparently missed me so much, you had to go and find my twin as a replacement.¡±

    ¡°That was as insightful as I expected it to be.¡± Faris managed another sip of the foul-smelling tea before gritting out, ¡°Although, at the risk of deflating your ego, I would like it stated for the record that it was June who found me. Not the other way around.¡±

    ¡°A likely story.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s actually a rather funny story. Or at least she thinks so, given the amount of times she keeps bringing it up.¡±

    Rasp supposed it was only fair to return the favor and take an equal interest in Faris¡¯s life. He twirled his fingers in the air, motioning for the faun to get story time over with.

    ¡°June was my neighbor. Not that I knew that, of course, considering she and Dagmar kept to themselves. They lived their whole lives just outside of Lonebrook without anyone ever realizing it. June knew about me, about you, about the realm, all of it. It wasn¡¯t until Geralt Lazuli seized control of my village that she finally decided it was time to stop hiding. She tracked me down after I fled so we could join forces and find you together.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said this was a funny story,¡± Rasp said. Unless Faris had meant funny in the ironic sense. In which case, Rasp was still severely disappointed. He had a deep dislike of irony, particularly the way it kept sticking its hand uninvited into his life and giving the shit a vigorous stir.

    ¡°Can I keep going or do you want to keep interrupting some more?¡± Faris demanded. Another unenthusiastic hand wave got the faun going again. ¡°Turns out a shapeshifter¡¯s forms have both positives and negatives. June¡¯s human form can talk, but it can¡¯t run, not as fast as a faun anyway. She had to use her bear form to keep pace with me. Chased me for three days straight until I collapsed from absolute exhaustion.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not funny, Dingle. What you¡¯re feeling is sad.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an expert on feelings now, are you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. I have to be now that I¡¯m all mature and in tune with my emotional side.¡± Rasp said, listing the most common culprits. ¡°Happy. Sad. Angry. The whole spectrum.¡±

    ¡°You know there are more than three emotions, right?¡±

    ¡°I prefer to stick to the basics, thank you. Any more than that and it starts to get confusing. Anyway, was that the end of your sad story, or is there an actual funny part?¡±

    Faris paused thoughtfully before admitting, ¡°Well I did eventually wake up with a bear sitting on top of me. To keep me from running away, she insists.¡±

    That would have been almost funny if Rasp had not experienced something eerily similar only the day before. The terror of waking up pinned beneath a living fur blanket, however, was still too fresh in his mind to crack jokes about.

    ¡°It was not my best moment,¡± Faris carried on. ¡°There was a lot of screaming after that. From me, mostly. Until June shifted into her human form and explained who in the seven realms she was and why she was following me.¡±

    ¡°Was she naked?¡±

    ¡°Is that honestly all you¡¯re getting from this?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a legitimate question!¡± Rasp knew for a fact that Whisper possessed a magic cloak to avoid winding up naked as a jaybird each time they went from dragon to angry porcupine. Whisper jokingly threatened to gift him the magic cloak upon their death to spare the world from having to witness Rasp¡¯s bare ass ever again. The final joke was on Whisper, of course, as Rasp intended to wear it as a hat.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Faris¡¯s blurry shape slumped forward as he shook his horns from side to side in exasperation. ¡°Yes, Rasp. It¡¯s not like a bear can wear human clothes.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Rasp was starting to see the humor in the story now. ¡°The nude form makes you all squeamish. She¡¯s lucky you didn¡¯t keel over with fright.¡±

    In what could have only been an attempt to make his tea more palpable, Faris snapped the tip of a pine twig between his teeth and chewed. His words were muffled slightly by the sounds of his back molars grinding the sprig to pulp. ¡°The whole thing¡¯s given me something of a complex, truth be told. I have nightmares about being hunted by bears now.¡±

    It was Rasp¡¯s turn to offer his friend a patronizing pat to the back. He aimed too high and got the back of Faris¡¯s neck. But, as with most things, it was the thought that counted. ¡°I appreciate the hardships you endured to come find me. Bears. Naked women. Two of your biggest fears.¡±

    ¡°If only you meant that.¡±

    ¡°Of course I do.¡±

    Faris¡¯s tea sloshed against the tin cup as he swirled it from side to side, lacking the motivation, much less stomach, to drink it. ¡°In that case, I might feel a smidge better if you finished my tea for me.¡±

    ¡°Gods no. I wouldn¡¯t have traded with you if I¡¯d intended to drink that shit in the first place.¡±

    ¡°You did what?¡±

    ¡°I switched the mugs when you weren¡¯t looking.¡± Rasp allowed a devilish grin to split across his face. ¡°Hop¡¯s always brewing up the most horrible concoctions for me, insisting it¡¯s for my health. Normally I just toss ¡®em when he¡¯s not looking, but my mouth felt like a desert after that third corn cake this morning so I drank yours instead.¡±

    ¡°You gave me poisoned tea?¡±

    ¡°Medicinal tea,¡± Rasp corrected. ¡°Your cup was lovely, by the way. Floral with just a hint of sweetness.¡±

    ¡°This tastes like ass!¡±

    Rasp raised a single eyebrow at Faris. ¡°Which begs the question why you¡¯re still drinking it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you why,¡± Faris said in that huffy sort of voice that implied he was building towards something profound. Whether or not it would be profoundly stupid was yet to be determined. ¡°Because, for the first time in two months, I woke up to someone waiting on me hand and hoof for a change. I opened my eyes and there was a plate of warm food and tea waiting for me. Do you know how rare that is?¡±

    Considering Faris had effectively described how Rasp awoke most mornings, he couldn¡¯t say he did. ¡°So you¡¯re forcing yourself to endure the taste of ass out of gratitude?¡±

    ¡°My reasoning made a lot more sense before you started poking holes in it,¡± Faris grumbled. ¡°Honestly, sometimes I don¡¯t think you even realize how good you¡¯ve got it. All of these strappingly handsome fauns coming out of the woodwork to keep you alive and well fed and you barely notice. It¡¯s downright criminal.¡±

    Rasp gnawed the corner of his lip as he considered Faris¡¯s words. Not the part about the lack of gratitude, of course. It was far too early in the morning for that sort of self-reflection. ¡°Are you implying there are two strappingly handsome fauns in this scenario?¡±

    Faris chose the wrong moment to finish the final dregs of his tea. Choking, the faun¡¯s blurry shape heaving forward with a wet sputter, coughing droplets of foul tea from his lungs as he beat his chest with his fist. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t help but notice you used the plural.¡±

    Speaking clearly was still proving to be a bit of a challenge for Faris, who could do little more than cough and gag, trying not to upend all of the breakfast he¡¯d worked so hard to swallow down in the first place.

    Rasp tilted his head back, wondering aloud, ¡°Then again, maybe I just misheard.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it,¡± Faris said weakly. ¡°Obviously.¡±

    ¡°Obviously,¡± Rasp agreed.

    From the sudden swell in obnoxious croaking, Dagmar¡¯s fond farewells were coming to a close. As much as Rasp would have liked to razz Faris indefinitely, he supposed it was only proper to see the old bird off. Using the faun¡¯s shoulder as support, Rasp heaved himself onto his feet, calling loud enough for the entire camp to hear. ¡°Hey, Hop! Faris says that¡¯s the best nettle tea he¡¯s ever had and he¡¯s too bashful to ask for another. Would you be a dear and remedy that for him?¡±

    With Faris¡¯s hissed ¡°I hate you¡± still ringing in his ears, Rasp shuffled out across the leaf-littered encampment. He kept his feet close to the ground, sliding each boot through the damp forest debris to avoid getting snagged on any unseen obstacles as he followed the sounds of Dagmar¡¯s lively chatter.

    ¡°Aunty Dagmar,¡± Rasp called in his best singsong voice as he dangerously drew within pecking range. ¡°I thought the point of leaving was to, you know, actually leave at some point?¡±

    June spoke on the raven¡¯s behalf. ¡°Sorry. She¡¯s almost on her way. Just saying her goodbyes, is all.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I heard.¡±

    ¡°...Oh, right,¡± June said, as if only now remembering she was no longer the only one capable of understanding the ravens.

    Rasp managed to make the entire journey without tripping. Almost. A tree root caught him by surprise at the very end and he fell forward with a startled yelp. June reached out and caught him before he made impact with the spongy ground. Grumbling his thanks, Rasp placed his hand on her shoulder as he steadied himself. Amidst the rush of relief, he could not help but feel a slight ping of annoyance at the realization that his sister was taller than him.

    We¡¯re just going to pretend that didn¡¯t happen.

    Unfortunately, June hadn¡¯t yet perfected the ability to read the annoyance on his face and asked with disgustingly genuine concern. ¡°You alright?¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Rasp wiped the stringy hair from eyes as he ever-so gracefully navigated the conversation to a topic unrelated to his fall. Any would do at this point. The entire reason he bothered coming this way seemed to be a logical start. ¡°We¡¯re going to be traveling again soon. Aunty Dagmar might have to wrap up the goodbyes if she wants to reach Lonebrook before we do.¡±

    Faris¡¯s plan involved sending Dagmar ahead of them to deliver a message to one of his contacts hidden outside of the village. Blessed with wings and a familiarity with the area, she was the obvious choice for a messenger. That, and because Father flat-out refused. The successful delivery of the message, however, hinged upon the raven actually reaching her destination. An impossibility if Dagmar never actually got around to the departing part.

    ¡°Aunty,¡± Rasp said, putting on his best grown up voice, ¡°I promise I will not let anything happen to your precious bear cub. You can be on your way now. June will be safe with me.¡±

    Croak!

    Out of habit, June started to explain, ¡°Aunty said¨C¡±

    ¡°I know what Aunty said!¡± Rasp took a breath, allowing it to wash away the sting of Dagmar¡¯s insult, before offering an alternative. ¡°June will be safe with Faris.¡±

    Croak.

    ¡°Fine! Hop, then. He¡¯s always telling me not to do things because they¡¯re too dangerous. On his life, I swear Hop will keep your precious bouncing baby girl safe.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Hop¡¯s voice called from across the encampment. ¡°Why did I just hear my name?¡±

    ¡°No reason.¡± Rasp turned back to the raven, squinting up at what he hoped was her blurred shape perched in the bare boughs above him. ¡°We are in a race against time. Please go. I promise you there will be no shenanigans whatsoever.¡±

    With a gargled screech, Dagmar fluttered away, muttering something about the dramatic decline in hospitality shown by the new generation of Stoneclaw leadership.

    June waited until the old bird had flown out of hearing before speaking her mind. ¡°That was all a lie, right? I was looking forward to the shenanigans, personally.¡±

    ¡°Every word. Now, completely unrelated, I have a pressing question for you.¡± Rasp tilted his head up at June as his most brilliant idea of the day, possibly his life, nearly burst from his chest with excitement. The words practically leapt from his mouth on their own accord. Fearful, perhaps, that if he didn¡¯t get them out as quickly as possible, the idea would disappear into the aether itself, destined to go uncommitted for all of time. ¡°Do bears wear saddles?¡±

 186 - Bears Dont Wear Saddles

    Rasp adjusted his hips as he gathered great fistfuls of musty fur into his hands and leaned forward. The smell was a lot stronger than a mule. Not in a bad way, either. Unlike Bonecrusher, the scent of June¡¯s fur was oddly familiar, like tundra and sweet grass in the fall. Tightening one¡¯s legs was an important aspect to bareback horse riding. Unfortunately, try as he might, the same principle did not appear to apply to bareback bear riding.

    Note to self, Rasp told himself as he felt his left leg begin to slip, don¡¯t say bareback bear riding out loud. Ever.

    Finding a stable riding position atop a bear was like trying to wrap one¡¯s legs around a fuzzy barrel made of jelly. Each time Rasp thought he¡¯d finally found the sweet spot, the layer of fat beneath June¡¯s shaggy hide would shift and he¡¯d lose his grip, causing him to list dangerously to one side. It might have been easier had his sister been a little bear, but alas, it was not so. June was hands down the largest bear he¡¯d ever encountered. Unnaturally big, in fact¨Cclose to the size of the fabled warbear spirits that haunted the cliffs of the Iron Ridge territory.

    Oh for fuck¡¯s sake.

    For what was not the first time, nor last time, Rasp found himself marveling at just how badly the Stoneclaw clan had butchered their own history. Warbears his ass. The truth was becoming clearer now. What his people had mistook for the reanimated soul of a witch was nothing more than a magical shapeshifter, whose only crime involved being born into a family of superstitious idiots.

    A low growl broke Rasp from his thoughts. June¡¯s irritated rumble reverberated up through her ribs and into Rasp¡¯s legs, settling deep within his narrow chest.

    ¡°Patience is a virtue,¡± he reminded her as he made the final adjustments to his form. Not that it really mattered. Anyone with half a brain knew he was destined for the ground. At the very least, he could ensure he was out of everyone else¡¯s line of sight before that happened. Pride, unlike his physical wellbeing, was worth preserving, after all.

    Sadly, not everyone agreed with this sentiment. ¡°Are you sure this is wise?¡± Hop called from off to the side, where he was undoubtedly wringing the life from his hands with worry. ¡°It took a lot of effort to fix your teeth and I am going to be vexed if I have to do it all over again.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, Hop, do you even hear yourself?¡± Rasp said. ¡°If this was wise, I wouldn¡¯t be doing it.¡±

    June stamped her front feet nervously.

    ¡°Of course we¡¯re still doing it.¡± Rasp wrangled his legs into position the best he could before wiping away the hot sheen of perspiration that clouded his eyes. Wicking the sweat off didn¡¯t improve his visibility any, as his surroundings appeared as bleak and blurry as ever, but it lessened the sting at least. ¡°Alright.¡± He took a breath and let it out slowly as he leaned forward. ¡°Ready?¡±

    June gave a raspy grunt of acknowledgement.

    ¡°Good, now hurry up. Let¡¯s go! Before Faris has time to chime in and tell us why this is going to fail.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, no, no. Don¡¯t mind me.¡± Faris¡¯s voice hailed from a reasonable distance away. He sounded far enough away not to get caught up in the inevitable consequences, but still within range to enjoy witnessing said consequences in all their stupendous glory. ¡°I¡¯m just here for the show. Carry on.¡±

    Hop offered a final, meek protest. ¡°But he could get hurt.¡±

    ¡°How else do you get him to learn anything?¡±

    Rasp applied slight pressure to June¡¯s sides with his heels. Not enough to hurt, simply to spur her along in a manner that did not result in an angry bear flipping over and ripping him to shreds. ¡°Yah!¡±

    June took off at a lumbering gallop. The dark green and brown outlines of the trees flew past at a blurred rate. Rasp heard the heavy crunch of dried leaves and broken branches as June plowed through the forest floor at a steady gait. The bear¡¯s shoulders were taller than her hips and with each long, mismatched stride, Rasp felt himself slide further down her back. He held on with all the strength in his hands, unwilling to ruin such a perfect experience with something as lame as falling off the back of a charging bear.

    For the briefest of moments, his heart soared. This was the first spot of fun he¡¯d had in what felt like ages. He was going home, his best friend had found him, and on top of all that, Rasp had discovered a sister who was just as easily swayed down the path of impulsive recklessness as himself. The fact that said same sister was unopposed to allowing him to ride piggyback on her bear form was simply the cherry on top of whatever dessert people put cherries on top of¨Che honestly didn¡¯t know, because he always ate the cherries before they could be made into something.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    But, much like the debilitating stomach cramps that came from eating a whole bucket of cherries, all good things had to come to an end. The end to Rasp¡¯s fun came at the bottom of a rather steep hill several moments after he slipped from June¡¯s bounding form and hit the leafy ground and rolled. He tumbled head over heels, cursing each time he struck a rock or half buried tree root on his way down. With one last stomach-wrenching summersault, he slammed face first onto the ground and slid to an undignified stop.

    It was Faris who reached him first. Crashing through the underbrush, the faun appeared at Rasp¡¯s side mere seconds after he¡¯d come to a full stop. Or maybe it just felt that way. The fuzzy floating pinpoints of light that clogged Rasp¡¯s muddled vision indicated that perhaps he¡¯d hit his head a little harder than he first thought. The truth was he had no idea how long he¡¯d been lying with his face buried in the dirt.

    ¡°Muck, are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± A jolt of pain coursed down his lower back as Faris helped ease him into an upright position. Rasp ignored it, squinting at Faris¡¯s blurry shape. ¡°Have there always been two of you?¡±

    Faris¡¯s head twisted around, calling back over his shoulder with a distinct waver in his voice. ¡°Hop?¡±

    ¡°Kidding!¡± Rasp surged forward, pushing Faris to the ground as he leapt upright and started back up the hill, ignoring the twinge of pain in his left shoulder. The loose leaves slipped underfoot, making his progress uphill far less impressive than he¡¯d intended. Rasp grabbed at whatever handholds he could find as he dug the tips of his boots into the slick hillside. Unfortunately, the harder he attempted to climb, the faster he seemed to slip. After about the third attempt, he reluctantly slid to a standstill at the base of the hill.

    Faris¡¯s white shape stood waiting for him. Although Rasp couldn¡¯t confirm it with his eyes, he suspected the faun had his arms crossed and a rather unimpressed expression on his face. ¡°This is sad, Dingle Head. I¡¯m getting secondhand embarrassment just watching.¡±

    ¡°You try doing this with your eyes closed and tell me how it works out for you!¡±

    ¡°Ooh, I touched a nerve, didn¡¯t I? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re embarrassed.¡±

    Heat stung the tip of Rasp¡¯s smarting nose¨Cand not just where the rough ground had abraded the skin, either. As much as Rasp wanted to deny the accusation, he could feel the heat already working its way to his ears. There was no use in denying it when his complexion was already giving him away. That didn¡¯t mean he had to admit to it, of course. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away.

    ¡°Touchy, touchy, touchy,¡± Faris tsked as he hooked his arm through Rasp¡¯s. ¡°Come on then. We¡¯ll go together.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Whisper¡¯s voice rang out from the hilltop above. ¡°Don¡¯t help him. He was the one who insisted on behaving like a fool. He cannot expect someone else to pull him out every time he gets stuck attempting something stupid. Stand back and allow him to find his own way.¡±

    The intensity of the heat stinging Rasp¡¯s face doubled. ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°You have more magic in a single pinky finger than most witches could hope to achieve in their lifetime. Use it.¡±

    Rasp threw his free hand into the air in exasperation. ¡°What¡¯s the point? You¡¯re just going to take it away anyway!¡±

    ¡°I cannot do that if you don¡¯t know how to first use it.¡±

    With a groan, Rasp unthreaded his arm from Faris¡¯s and stood back, considering his options. He knew asking for a hint on what Whisper expected him to do would only result in a sternly worded lecture about how he needed to actually try before giving up. It would be best to hem and haw for several minutes before throwing in the proverbial towel.

    Giving up already?

    Dammit. He hated that Whisper could read him even from a distance. I¡¯m thinking.

    About giving up. Yes, I know.

    This would be easier if you weren¡¯t breathing down my neck. At least give me a chance to fail first. Rasp felt Whisper¡¯s buzzing thoughts detangle themselves from his own. He probably could have thought that nicer, but unscheduled training sessions made him grumpy. Not that regular training sessions didn¡¯t do the same, but at least he had ample time to complain about those beforehand.

    Besides, Faris was watching. The same Faris who had gone out of his way to find him so that they could save Lonebrook together. The last thing Rasp wanted was to give his best friend second thoughts, not after everything he¡¯d gone through to get here.

    Perhaps it would help if you stopped fawning over the blasted faun and focused.

    ¡°Shut up!¡±

    ¡°Rasp,¡± Faris said after a moment of unease, ¡°nobody said anything.¡±

    ¡°Well they were thinking it. Now hush, Dingle. I need to focus.¡±

    In an unexpected show of encouragement, Faris reached out and touched Rasp¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You can do it. I believe in you.¡±

    Rasp fought the full-body cringe that shimmied up his spine. He gagged, ¡°Gods, Dingle. Don¡¯t do that. It¡¯s so much worse.¡±

    ¡°Fine. But if you don¡¯t hurry it up, I¡¯m going to do it again. Except this time I¡¯m going to tell you how good you are, and how proud I am, and how you¡¯ve come so far just to make your skin crawl.¡±

    Forget disappointing Faris, that was motivation in itself. Rasp corralled his wandering thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on his senses. Both fire and water¨Cthe easiest elements for him to manipulate¨Cwere in short supply at the moment. He could feel the wind on his face, however, and hear the creak of the trees overhead, and feel the solid dirt beneath his feet. While he could bend flora to his will to a degree, it wasn¡¯t easy and without sight, nearly impossible to get it to do what he wanted. Thus, he chose the wind.

    This would require a second, working pair of eyes however. Someone to tell him how high to go and whether or not it was safe to let them drop. ¡°Dingle.¡± He outstretched his hand in Faris¡¯s direction. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you for this.¡±

    Faris was rightfully suspicious. ¡°What for?¡±

    Rasp seized him by the arm all the same. ¡°It helps to have someone who can see how far the ground is below me.¡±

 187 - Out Of Place

    With his arm locked firmly in the crook of Faris¡¯s elbow, Rasp drew inwards, pulling the wind in his direction. A raging gust swept beneath them, lifting their feet from the leaf-littered ground. Faris abandoned his futile attempts to squirm free and threw his arms around Rasp with all his strength, wailing something about this being a terrible idea. Rasp paid the panicking faun no mind. For the gods¡¯ sakes, they were barely even off the ground yet! He wouldn¡¯t have to take Faris¡¯s screaming seriously until they were at least a little bit higher.

    With a flick of his hand, the gust swept them upwards. And while this worked just as well as he had hoped, Rasp may have misjudged one tiny detail¨Cthe thick canopy stretched overhead. Gnarled, twisted branches, thick with leathery leaves, tore at his face and clothes as the pair broke through the treetops.

    Faris, fortunately, was a bit of a natural at his role as the lookout. ¡°Big branch! Go left, left, left!¡±

    Rasp twitched his finger and they banked left, barely missing the thick limb that Rasp swore had come out of nowhere. Faris insisted otherwise, but that¡¯s why he was the lookout, after all. A few narrow misses later, and the pair broke through the top of the canopy and into the clear airspace above. Bright blue light inundated Rasp¡¯s weak vision. He shielded his eyes from the worst of it, but the dramatic shift from light to dark made his head swim nonetheless.

    Carried by the wind, they rose higher, higher, higher. The air was fresh, almost crisp tasting as it filled Rasp¡¯s lungs. For the first time in weeks, he felt the full power of the sun against his bare skin. The experience would have been divine if it were not for the icy winds hellbent on tearing the threadbare clothes from his body. The current whipped about them, howling as it pushed and pulled the pair in whatever direction it pleased.

    Faris trembled against Rasp for reasons unrelated to the chill. ¡°Why are the trees below us, Rasp? You were supposed to get to the top of the hill, not the top of the mucking forest!¡±

    ¡°Poor planning? I dunno. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve done this before.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never done this before?¡± Faris¡¯s high-pitched reply came out sounding more akin to a scream than a question.

    ¡°I can tell you¡¯re impressed.¡±

    ¡°But you know how to get down, right?¡±

    Of course he did. What a silly thing to ask. ¡°I assume the same way we got up. Except, you know, the opposite direction.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to drop us?¡±

    Rasp inhaled sharply through clenched teeth as Faris squeezed tighter, crushing all the crisp air from his lungs in the process. Rasp took a shallow breath and said, ¡°Gently, Dingle. I¡¯m going to gently drop us.¡±

    ¡°Okay, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s fine, it¡¯s fine.¡± Faris didn¡¯t seem to be listening to Rasp anymore. He self soothed by talking himself through the situation instead. ¡°Whisper¡¯s a dragon. They can come save us if we get stuck. Or if we drop too fast or¨C¡±

    ¡°Well, not anymore actually.¡± Rasp hated to burst his bubble, but it was only fair that Faris knew the truth. ¡°I mean, Whisper still has a dragon form, yes. But it draws too much power to use. It¡¯s sort of an emergency use only kind of thing.¡±

    ¡°This is an emergency!¡±

    ¡°Now who¡¯s being dramatic?¡±

    ¡°Are you telling me we¡¯re on our own?¡±

    ¡°Oh please, I got us up here. I can get us down just as easily.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s surviving the going down part that¡¯s important, Rasp!¡±

    ¡°Now that you mention it, I am feeling suddenly weak.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you mucking dare!¡±

    Old Rasp would have let them drop a few stories simply for the funsies. Old Rasp was a bit of a dick, though. The more Current Rasp distanced himself from his former self, the more he realized he was lucky he¡¯d managed to retain a single friend at all. Also, if he wanted to keep retaining his only friend, it would probably be best to ensure he got them both to the ground safe and sound. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m done being an ass, I swear. We¡¯ll take it nice and slow, okay? In all honesty, I didn¡¯t actually mean to go this high.¡±

    Faris clung to him tighter, whimpering, ¡°Not helping.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to need your eyes though. You don¡¯t happen to see a clear spot around here, do you? I don¡¯t know about you, but breaking through the treetops last time resulted in a few sticks in places that weren¡¯t there before.¡± That last part wasn¡¯t actually true, but Rasp hoped the joke would help calm Faris¡¯s fraying nerves.

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    After a few steady breaths, the faun worked up the courage to open his eyes again. It came with a bit of a shock, apparently, as every muscle in Faris¡¯s body seized in terror. ¡°For muck¡¯s sake, Rasp! Do you realize how high we are?¡±

    ¡°If I knew that, I wouldn¡¯t need your eyes, now would I?¡±

    A dark shadow passed over Rasp¡¯s face. Instinctively, he craned his head upwards, squinting at the blurred shape that circled soundlessly above. ¡°Dad?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a hawk, idiot.¡±

    Certainly explained the lack of obnoxious squawking. ¡°Kinda weird for it to be here, right?¡±

    ¡°What, in the air? Where they hunt? Spend their free time? No, Dingle Head. I don¡¯t think the hawk is the one out of place here!¡± Faris screamed. ¡°And you do know why it¡¯s above us, don¡¯t you? Because it recognizes an easy meal when it sees one! Any moment now, it¡¯ll be stripping the flesh from our dead bodies. If there¡¯s anything left after we splatter across the ground, that is.¡±

    ¡°Splattering would make the picking easier,¡± Rasp conceded.

    Eventually, once he got all of the death and doom out of his system, Faris composed himself enough to provide actual assistance. He spied a small, swampy patch devoid of trees and, between the cursing and muttered insults, directed Rasp over the top of it. On Faris¡¯s command, Rasp began the descent, slowly.

    They were only halfway down, according to Faris, when the ache in Rasp¡¯s lower back transitioned from a dull thrum to what felt like pulsing spasms of lightning. The bolts lanced up and down his spine as it spread wave after wave of white hot agony to his extremities. The familiar buzz of magic waned, giving way to pain and exhaustion. Rasp was barely holding on by a thread by the time the blurry ground rose up beneath them.

    Long blades of grass, wet with morning dew, brushed against his trousers as Rasp¡¯s heels struck soft ground at last. With a wave of his hand, he severed his magical connection, leaving only the tingling loss of sensation in his numb fingertips. The numbness did not apply to his shoulder and, thus, he felt the full force of Faris¡¯s punch. Rasp stumbled several steps backwards before falling flat on his ass.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ever do that again!¡± Faris emphasized his scream with a hoof stomp.

    ¡°...Urg.¡±

    Rasp decided against trying to get up in the event Faris wanted a second go at him. He went limp amongst the damp grass, feeling the wet squish of the muddy ground splatter beneath him. Exhausted and magically spent, he laid perfectly still, listening as the sounds of the forest intermixed with Faris¡¯s relentless pacing.

    It took half an hour for the rest of the party to find them. June was the first to arrive on the scene. Having shifted back from bear to human, her willowy shadow came bursting out of the trees at a full sprint. ¡°That was amazing!¡± June¡¯s wet footsteps carried her all the way to Rasp¡¯s side. She bent over and tugged ruthlessly on his arm, not bothering to check if Rasp was even alive before attempting to heave his limp carcass from the grass. ¡°Can I go next? Please, please, please!¡±

    Hop was not far behind with the mule and Whisper in tow. Unlike June, he stayed tucked along the trees, allowing his baritone voice to carry across the clearing from afar. ¡°Nobody should be doing that again.¡±

    Rasp raised his finger triumphantly into the air above his head. ¡°I conquered the hill, as requested.¡±

    Faris was still angrily pacing back and forth from the sounds of it. ¡°You could have done it in a less dramatic fashion, you know. You got lucky today, Rasp. But you can¡¯t do that kind of shit when we¡¯re in real danger. My village is at stake.¡±

    ¡®My family is in your incompetent hands¡¯ was the part he wasn¡¯t saying.

    The breeze shifted directions, unsticking the sweat-soaked hairs that clung to Rasp¡¯s forehead. He felt a swell of magic ripple across his skin as Whisper touched down beside him. The faun may not be impressed by your feat of magic, but I am.

    That certainly came as a surprise. Rasp said nothing, waiting instead for the inevitable follow up, which would undoubtedly include such words as ¡®however¡¯, ¡®but¡¯, or ¡®idiot¡¯.

    Unfortunately, Whisper had other plans which, for some gods awful reason, involved introspection. Do you understand the importance of what just took place, little bird?

    I got over the hill like you asked me to? Without dying either, Rasp would have liked to have added. Seemed a little redundant though, considering Whisper would be attempting to converse with a corpse otherwise.

    Indeed, you did. More importantly, you used the full extent of your magic without stirring the darkness.

    Oh shit. He had, hadn¡¯t he? Rasp hadn¡¯t been able to do that since becoming an unwilling host to the dark magic. Small spells he could squeak past with, sure, but this hadn¡¯t been a small spell. No, in fact, he¡¯d all but drained his power with the flying nonsense. He should have been elated, but he felt mostly confused instead.

    This is not the first time, either. You achieved the same yesterday, when you first reunited with your friend. Whisper allowed the thought to sink in before asking, Do you know why these two instances were different from the others? Why you were able to use the full extent of your powers without losing control?

    If you tell me it¡¯s the power of love or some shit like that, I might just hit you.

    Whisper¡¯s quills rattled together, daring him to try. You were not angry.

    While it may not have been the power of love, Rasp still found the answer nauseatingly stupid.

    Anger is what awoke the spirit in the first place. It is how it first reached you. By controlling your anger, feeling it without becoming consumed by it, you are denying the dark entity access to the rest of you.

    That¡¯s it? That¡¯s all it took? This whole time Rasp could have been using his magic without the threat of losing control and all it would have taken was not being angry? For reasons perhaps too ironic to fully grasp, this knowledge served only to make him angrier. The scuffed skin on his face stung in the cool morning air as a ripple of heat flushed all the way from the tip of his nose to his forehead.

    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± Rasp didn¡¯t care if the others didn¡¯t know what he was yelling about, he had to get the rage out before it had time to dig its claws in and fester. ¡°Is that why you kept pushing all this emotional wellbeing bullcrap? It actually had a purpose? I thought you were just trying to make me more tolerable to be around.¡±

    And you¡¯re back to being angry. Right on schedule.

 188 - Hospitality

    Breakfast was a simple bowl of cooked oats topped with simmered apples and a drizzle of honey. After months on the road, it was the best meal Daana had eaten in recent memory. Sure, the simple fare may have paled in comparison to the celebratory feasts back at Sunstorn, but Daana did her utmost to forget those parts of her past. Amidst the constant reorganization of memories¨Cshoving this here, cramming this there, pretending that one solstice eve tumble down the stairs never happened¨Cher table manners somehow got lost in the shuffle. Daana¡¯s once prim, poised posture was gone. Her former self would have balked at the disheveled elf woman parading in her place, wearing scrappy, ill-fitted clothing, hunched over a table, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of oats into her mouth as quickly as it would go down.

    To be fair, Daana¡¯s former self would not be the only one to gawk. In fact, a good number of the other patrons seated around the assortment of tables were doing their best not to openly stare. Part of that could have been Snag¡¯s fault as well. Not that he was doing anything to garner attention, of course. People leered at him regardless.

    Daana put down the spoon and took a long draught of water. Even that tasted better than it ever had before. Which failed to explain why her breakfast companion wasn¡¯t partaking in any of it. ¡°You know it¡¯s not poisoned, right?¡±

    ¡°You hope,¡± Snag replied.

    Daana shoveled down another spoonful of sweet oats as she considered something smart to say. ¡°Nah, you wouldn¡¯t let me eat it if it was.¡±

    Ordinarily he would have said something quippy in return, but Snag appeared too preoccupied with checking his peripherals to bother. The pair were seated in the bustling meal hall at a table shoved all the way in the corner. Snag was across from Daana with his back to the wall, watching the morning¡¯s breakfast patrons come and go with his jagged mouth held in an uneasy grimace. Although the goblin clutched his spoon as if it were a weapon, his bowl of oats remained untouched.

    The night before, after the bizarre introduction to her mother, Daana had gone back outside of the walls to fetch her belongings. What had started as a pathetic attempt to say goodbye to Snag turned into her begging him to stay at least one night. After many tears¨Chers, not his¨Che acquiesced, ultimately insisting it was because he wished to replenish his supplies and not because Daana was making an idiot of herself.

    She almost felt bad for inviting him inside now. Almost. The steady supply of food was doing wonders to keep the unpleasant feelings at bay. Daana lifted her bowl of oats and tilted her head towards the double doors behind her. ¡°I can take this outside if you want. Bring yours too. Even if you¡¯re not going to eat it.¡±

    No sense in letting good food go to waste, after all.

    A flood of stark light swept across the inside of the great hall as the doors opened with a creaking wail behind her. While the hall didn¡¯t fall deathly quiet, the volume certainly dropped in a noticeable way. Curious, Daana twisted around on the bench to get a glimpse of what was taking place. The disturbance was Ashwyn, whose height made her stick out amongst the hungry crowd like a shark fin across water. Despite the bustling crowd, Ashwyn was across the room in no time at all. Probably helped the way the other patrons practically leapt to the side to avoid crossing her path.

    The shared bench wobbled under the orc¡¯s weight when she dropped down next to Daana. From there she just sort of melted, like candle wax on a hot day, and spread out across the top of the table.

    ¡°You look awful,¡± Daana said around another mouthful of honey-drizzled oats.

    Normally this would have provoked some sort of response out of the orc¨Ca laugh, a quip, a hearty punch. Ashwyn said nothing, choosing to remain a sad, melted puddle of an orc instead.

    Daana and Snag traded worried glances. His pinched brow warned her not to say another word. ¡°This is a job for El,¡± he said, hurriedly glancing about, as if expecting the elf in question to materialize out of the shadows at any moment. ¡°Where is she?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s hollow voice was but a ghost of its normal might. ¡°Gone.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean gone?¡± Snag¡¯s long ear shot into the air. ¡°Gone where? Like to bed? The tavern? She¡¯s not already in jail again, is she?¡±

    ¡°We¡­uh¡­¡± Ashwyn¡¯s hand clenched into a fist, her knuckles draining of all color. ¡°She left.¡±

    ¡°Without you?¡± Daana prompted.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck!¡± Snag stood, shoving away from his seat as he threw the spoon across the table with a clatter, uncaring that the occupants seated closest to them were scooting further away. ¡°That¡¯s it? She just up and left? Without even bothering to say goodbye or tell me where she was headed?¡±

    ¡°We fought, Snag. It was ugly.¡±

    ¡°Well she¡¯s coming back, right? I mean this is what she does, innit? You two fight, she burns something to the ground, gets blistering drunk, and then comes crawling back the second she¡¯s sobered up again?¡±

    The sound that squeaked out of Ashwyn¡¯s mouth had more in common with a whimper than a sigh. ¡°Not this time, mate.¡±

    Daana placed her open hand over Ashwyn¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Me too.¡±

    Daana didn¡¯t know what else to say. As fate would have it, it wasn¡¯t necessary to say anything. The double doors opened behind them once more. This time, the doors stayed open, flooding the room with sunlight spilling in from the outside. Blinking the sunspots from her eyes, Daana glanced over her shoulder and watched as the faun from the previous night left his entourage at the entrance and approached, hooves clacking against the hardwood flooring with a resounding clack clack. Havershire halted just short of their table, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and looking rather annoyed at having to see their faces again so soon.

    ¡°The sage superior will see you now.¡± His hardened gaze swept from Daana to Ashwyn. ¡°Both of you.¡±

    Daana glanced over at Snag, who had not only sat back down, but appeared to be attempting to camouflage with the wall. Daana bit back her tongue, realizing drawing attention to him would likely result in him trying to slip under the table itself.

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    Alas, she was not the only one to notice. The aged faun peered at Snag over the top of his rounded spectacles with sudden, careful interest. ¡°You¡¯re the goblin.¡±

    A cold look flitted across Snag¡¯s gnarled face. ¡°What gave it away?¡±

    ¡°You are one of General Dawnsight¡¯s trusted four, yes?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Snag adopted his best look of innocence, this maneuver included blinking his eyes and tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. ¡°Oh, no. Not me, sir. I¡¯m but a humble gobby guide. I¡¯m just here to collect my payment for delivering these two safe and sound.¡±

    It took great effort for Daana not to roll her eyes as Snag extended his open palm in her direction. She considered putting her spoon in his outstretched hand as she certainly didn¡¯t have any other means to pay him.

    Unfortunately for Snag, Havershire was not an idiot.

    ¡°We have been expecting a message from your commanding officer for some time now. Come.¡± The faun whirled around, his red robe billowing dramatically in his wake as he strode back the way he had come, calling over his shoulder, ¡°You may explain to the sage superior in person why you are so late.¡±

    ¡°But I¨C¡± Snag¡¯s protest petered out when he noticed the entourage of soldiers waiting for them by the doorway. With a muffled whimper, he stood and followed after, casting nervous glances from left to right, searching for the nearest escape route undoubtedly.

    Daana meant to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but all that did was make him jump a foot into the air. She quickly withdrew her hand. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t do that! You¡¯re liable to lose a hand that way.¡±

    Ashwyn leaned closer, murmuring at a volume the others would be hard pressed to overhear. ¡°You alright, mate?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a bloody message,¡± he hissed. ¡°Your sister never involved me in any of the resistance stuff. I mean, I knew about it, she knew I knew about it, but we both just pretended I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You want me to cause a distraction so you can hightail it out here?¡± Ashwyn tried to smile but it was clear that her heart wasn¡¯t in it.

    ¡°And go where? Ellisar and I were supposed to travel back to the coast together.¡± Snag walked between them, wringing his gnarled hands as he considered his options. ¡°Should have run when I had the chance.¡±

    Daana didn¡¯t necessarily have any sway with her mother, but she supposed it wouldn¡¯t hurt to at least try to explain the situation on Snag¡¯s behalf. ¡°Do you want me to say something to her?¡±

    ¡°Daana, I mean this in the very best way, but dear gods, girl, no. Just let me handle how I see fit, ¡®kay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that bad at negotiating.¡±

    ¡°Regardless, I think it¡¯s safe to assume the person with a giant army outside her walls is going to be infinitely better at it.¡±

    With Havershire in the lead, and the soldiers flanking in what reminded Daana of the v-formation used by migratory birds, the trio were paraded down several bustling dirt streets. She tried to keep track of the twists and turns, but with so many new sights, smells, and sounds, she was soon too overwhelmed with taking it all in to remember if their last turn had been a right or a left. From Snag¡¯s worsening posture, he likely already had a mental map of the main streetways down.

    At last, their travels brought them to a clay building that looked suspiciously like all of the others around it. They were herded down a short flight of stone steps and into the low set doorway of the basement apartment below. It was an open room with various tables overflowing with books, scrolls and loose parchment. The few half windows scattered across the walls were closed with their thick curtains drawn shut, cutting out all natural light from the outside. Half-burnt candles littered the room, their melted wax spilling over the sides of their copper holders and leaving hardened deposits on the tabletops and floors.

    Larkspur was bent over a table at the center of the stuffy room, trading low, heated words with an elf in red and gold embroidered robe. She finished her conversation before straightening her posture and approaching her guests, meticulously placing one slender boot in front of the other as her dark eyes swept from one to the next. Her attire was the same as the night before. Ridiculous boots included. Daana only noticed this because the buckles rattled slightly with each purposeful step.

    Larkspur¡¯s gaze settled on Snag with the weight of an anvil. ¡°Ashwyn, was it necessary to bring your stable hand?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± A nervous laugh erupted from Snag¡¯s mouth. He spun around and marched towards the doorway. ¡°Daana, Ashwyn, it¡¯s been a pleasure. If you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯m off to go saddle a horse.¡±

    Havershire stepped swiftly into Snag¡¯s path, barring him from the exit. The wizened faun gazed over the top of him at Larkspur. ¡°Sage superior, this is one of General Dawnsight¡¯s trusted four.¡±

    ¡°The goblin?¡± Larkspur¡¯s dark brows knitted together. After a moment of thought, she dismissed her confusion with a wave of her hand. ¡°Of course she sent the goblin. He was the only one familiar with the territory.¡±

    ¡°Who, by the way, loves being referred to as ¡®the goblin¡¯ and not his actual name,¡± Snag muttered under his breath.

    ¡°My apologies Mister¡­¡± Larkspur¡¯s words trailed as she realized her error. She searched the faun¡¯s face, probing the answer to a question she dared not ask out loud.

    Daana nearly bit her own tongue to keep from speaking on Snag¡¯s behalf.

    ¡°Snuglebum Flint,¡± Havershire answered with a remarkably straight-face. The same could not be said for the guards standing alongside the entryway who buried their faces into their sleeves to muffle their snickers.

    ¡°What? No! That¡¯s not¡­¡± Snag stopped trying to sidle around the red-robed faun and ran a clawed hand down his forehead, muttering, ¡°I¡¯m going to strangle that boy the next time I see him. Damn maggot calls me that one time and it¡¯s all anybody remembers.¡±

    Larkspur cut back in. ¡°My apologies, Mister Flint. You must under¨C¡±

    ¡°Not to worry, Miss Daana¡¯s mum. No need for introductions. I was just on my way out.¡± Alas, each time Snag nearly reached the door, the stubborn faun stepped in front of him once more. It was a very bizarre game that neither looked to be winning. Nor enjoying, for that matter.

    The same could be said for Larkspur, whose stare hardened at the embarrassing display. ¡°Mister Flint, you are late. And I do not like to be kept waiting. What news do you have from Oralia? Tell me she is on her way.¡±

    ¡°How the fuck would I know?¡± Snag gestured to Ashwyn with an overdramatic sweep of his arm. ¡°I just spent the last month springing this one from a dungeon. And if that wasn¡¯t hard enough, I then got roped in making sure they got delivered safely to your doorstep. Which, you¡¯re welcome for, by the way. Considering one of ¡®ems your long lost daughter.¡±

    Larkspur studied his outstretched hand as her sharp features contorted from anger to confusion. ¡°What is he doing?¡±

    Daana looked to the ceiling above, stifling her reflexive groan. ¡°He wants you to pay him.¡±

    ¡°How bold.¡±

    ¡°Worth a try.¡± Snag said with a shrug, returning his hand to his side. ¡°Anyway, I don¡¯t have a message from Oralia. She was in Adderwood last I saw her. I¡¯d tell you to start there, but she doesn¡¯t stay in one place for long these days. So¡­good luck with your search then?¡±

    The room went still as all eyes swept to Larkspur. Daana swore it suddenly felt ten degrees cooler. An inexplicable shiver shot up her spine. The seconds slowly ticked past until, at last, the unthinkable happened. A smile pulled across the sage superior¡¯s mouth. ¡°Mister Flint, you appear to be in a hurry to leave. I hope that isn¡¯t my doing.¡±

    Snag, wisely, said nothing at all. Still didn¡¯t stop him from eyeballing the door with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, though.

    ¡°You went through all of this trouble to reunite me with my daughter,¡± Larkspur continued. ¡°Please, allow me to show you the hospitality you deserve. I believe a seat at my table is in order.¡±

    ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t want that.¡±

    ¡°You seem to be under the misconception that I¡¯m giving you a choice.¡±

 189 - Damage Assessment

    For as long as Daana could remember, there had always been a little fire demon that danced in the back of her head whenever an unfair situation arose. It had earned her a good deal of trouble in her youth. Suppressing it had been a matter of survival during her academy days. Try as she might, however, the fire never completely went away. Watching the uncomfortable standoff between Snag and her mother not only sparked the coals of Daana¡¯s inner rage, but incited live flame. This had the additional, unfortunate effect of wiping Snag¡¯s warning not to get involved from her memory.

    Daana stepped boldly forward. ¡°Where do you get off threatening him like that?¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s annoyance shifted from Snag to Daana. A subtle wave of her hand kept her guards positioned near the doorway. The sage superior remained otherwise cool, content to watch Daana¡¯s fiery spiral peter itself out.

    ¡°He,¡± Daana said as she gestured to Snag, who looked to be on the verge of melting into a puddle of green goblin goo, ¡°is not a part of this. I asked him to bring me here as a favor. I will not stand idle while you threaten him.¡± Daana couldn¡¯t be sure, considering her eyes were locked on her mother, but she swore she saw the low-burning candles flicker along the corner of her vision.

    Several seconds crept past before Larkspur was forced to ask, ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°Well what?¡±

    ¡°You said you would not stand idle. What do you intend to do about it?¡±

    Crap. Daana hadn¡¯t thought that far ahead. That was the problem with her inner demon. It was all flash and fizzle with no real heat. ¡°I¡­¡± Daana¡¯s voice trailed as her mind desperately searched for an answer. For some terrible reason, the solution it settled on was one of Willem¡¯s old lessons about killing one¡¯s enemies with kindness. ¡°I will have to ask you politely to stop doing that. If Snag wishes to leave, then let him.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s expression was woefully unimpressed. She pivoted accusingly in Ashwyn¡¯s direction, hands on her hips, as if this was the orc¡¯s fault somehow. ¡°All this time together, and that¡¯s the best she could come up with? What have you been teaching her?¡±

    ¡°How to throw a decent right hook, mostly.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s teasing tone did not match her posture. The orc may not have had any weapons on hand, but she looked prepared to make do with her fists if needed. ¡°I suspect it will take someone far more experienced than me to teach her how to throw her weight around. Speaking of which, are you done having your fun? You stand to lose her again if you keep this up.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t leave. She can¡¯t afford to.¡± Larkspur gestured unenthusiastically to the red-robed elf still seated at the table. ¡°I brought in my finest healer to assess Daana¡¯s condition. Walking out that door means walking away from any possibility of a cure.¡±

    Daana was damn near mad enough to walk out anyway. The tips of her ears burned as she ground her back molars to keep from saying something that would only make her situation worse. She flinched when she felt a clawed hand touch her own.

    Snag sidled up alongside Daana. For her own sake, she pretended the hand clutching was out of support and not to prevent her from doing something they would both regret. ¡°A healer?¡± he said, tone dripping with doubt.

    Snag¡¯s skepticism was understandable. Even back at the Division of Divination, a place crawling with every type of witch and magic imaginable, healers had been practically unheard of. Not due to rarity, but demand. Healers were a commodity, often snatched up by the rich and powerful the moment a fledgling witch started to show a talent for the healing arts. Like all things deemed worthy of value, healers were a magical resource hoarded almost exclusively by those at the very top of the social hierarchy. To a commoner, a healer was the witch equivalent of a unicorn¨Crumored to be real and, yet, destined to never see one.

    ¡°I have several healers in my service,¡± Larkspur told Snag. ¡°Nevil is my own personal attendant. The best in the land.¡±

    Snag mulled over this information with careful consideration. ¡°And if we stay for your sit-down, answer your questions, Daana gets healed?¡±

    Larkspur had them in the palm of her hand and knew it. With a tight smile, she turned and strode for the table, calling over her shoulder. ¡°If there is any cure to be had, yes. That¡¯s the idea.¡±

    ¡°Healer first,¡± Snag said, giving Daana the silent side-eye to shut it and let him handle things. ¡°Then we answer your questions.¡±

    Larkspur traded pointed looks with Havershire before conceding the matter with an unceremonious shrug of her shoulders. ¡°Fine.¡±

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    ¡°This way, dear.¡± One cue, Nevil, the red-robed healer, stood and shepherded Daana into one of the open chairs clustered around the table. His nervous stare was not fixed on her, but Ashwyn and Snag, who were both hovering a little too close for his comfort. ¡°I don¡¯t normally allow spectators, but I get the distinct feeling these two won¡¯t be leaving without a fuss.¡±

    Wordlessly, Snag allowed his unblinking stare to confirm the healer¡¯s intuition.

    ¡°You are welcome to stay so long as you sit and promise not to interfere.¡±

    Ashwyn slid into the open chair beside them and clapped Daana¡¯s shoulder in what was probably meant as a reassuring gesture. ¡°You¡¯ve got this, Peaches. We¡¯ll be right here if you need us.¡±

    ¡°Not interfering,¡± Nevil reiterated.

    ¡°Not interfering,¡± Ashwyn said with the sort of toothy smile that warned she would decide what constituted ¡®interfering¡¯.

    Finally, the healer gave Daana his full attention. ¡°If you would show me the markings, dear.¡±

    Daana unbuttoned her sleeve and pulled back the fabric, allowing it to bunch at the elbow. Although the dark veins snaked higher now, almost to her shoulder, she was not about to yank off her top in front of a room of her mother¡¯s closest advisors. She still had some small semblance of dignity, after all.

    With a reassuring smile, Nevil stepped forward and took Daana¡¯s hand into his own. His slender fingers started at the wrist and moved upwards, humming to himself as he worked. Daana felt the heat of magic pass between them. She opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late. Pain struck her behind the eyes as the dark magic surged forward like a ravenous dog on a chain. She tried to pull away but the elf had gone into a full trance. His eyes were closed and he swayed back and forth, holding Daana¡¯s arm in a vice-like grip.

    Dark magic rippled beneath her skin, pulling at her flesh as it tried to bridge the connection. Pain radiated in her arm like a thousand hot needles stabbing her at once. It was too much. Daana folded over, fighting the waves of nausea as sour bile trickled up the back of her throat and flooded across her tongue. Unable to focus, the room faded in and out around her. Pinpricks of flashing light danced across her vision even after she screwed her eyes shut tight.

    Chair legs jerked against the wood floor as several voices thundered in the background all at once. The noise swelled, filling the room with a heated exchange of words. The only voice Daana could distinguish amongst the fray belonged to Snag.

    ¡°Snag, help me!¡± Daana screamed.

    The din crescendoed in sequence with the pain radiating within her arm. The darkness was growing. It spread out, its undulating tendrils weaving a vast tapestry across the inner workings of her mind. The barbed hooks pulled tighter, tighter, tighter, until the last of the dancing pinpricks of light faded into nothing.

    At first, there was only darkness. Pitch black, like the inside of a cave that stretched on endlessly in every direction. And then, above her, a calming light flickered. It didn¡¯t crackle or pop, but flowed as effortlessly as water as it doubled in size. Its shimmering waves branched outwards, transforming from rippling rivers into babbling brooks and streams as it overtook the darkness.

    The pain subsided. A cooling calmness swept over her as Daana released the scream clenched between her gritted teeth. Her body relaxed, lulled into a tranquil trance as she felt the strange magic shroud her in its comforting embrace. It didn¡¯t pull tight like the darkness. It was as light and airy as muslin cloth on a crisp spring morning. Even if she possessed the strength to fight, she no longer had the will. It was peaceful here.

    Daana sank further into the magic, allowing it to course through her veins and heal the blistering ache.

    ¡°Daana!¡±

    No, she thought. She didn¡¯t want to return to the outside. Not yet. Not now that she had finally found a small sliver of peace. The pain was gone; nobody was trying to run her down; she was reunited with her long lost mother. For the first time in ages, all was right with the world again. And she so desperately didn¡¯t want to let go.

    The voice hovering on the outside of her consciousness was annoyingly persistent. ¡°Daana! Come out of it.¡±

    The glowing light faded. It dissipated into nothing as Daana slowly emerged onto the outside. It was only then that she realized her eyes were open. The warm candlelight caused her to blink the swell of hot tears from her murky vision. The fuzzy shapes around her gradually shifted back in focus. Snag and Ashwyn were crouched on either side of her, wide-eyed, with the color drained from their bleak faces.

    ¡°Thank gods,¡± Snag muttered as his ears drooped in relief. ¡°Ashwyn looked like she was about ready to slap you. Probably would have just sent you back under.¡±

    ¡°I know my strength,¡± the orc retorted. ¡°It would have only been a little baby slap.¡±

    The red-robed healer stood between them. His narrow arms were hugged to his chest and he was trembling. Nevil was incapable of tearing her gaze from Daana. Behind him, Daana caught a glimpse of her mother. Larkspur was bent over the table, fervently whispering with the red-robed faun.

    When Daana found her voice again, it was weaker than she expected. ¡°What just happened?¡±

    Ashwyn and Snag both looked to the healer for clarification, as if they weren¡¯t quite sure themselves.

    ¡°I was assessing the damage,¡± Nevil stammered, still unable to break eye contact with Daana. The poor thing looked like a wounded animal staring down the predator as it steadily closed in. ¡°The infection is unlike anything I¡¯ve felt before. I-I was doing the best I could to fight it, but then I lost control¨C¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Daana¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking, I¡¯m sorry. I should have warned you. The darkness responds to magic. It can take control and¨C¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t the darkness, child. It was you.¡±

 190 - A School Of Hungry Sharks

    It was you. The healer¡¯s ominous words echoed within Daana¡¯s mind as she gazed up at his stricken face.

    Nevil¡¯s hazel eyes were rimmed in white and his lower lip quivered. The worry lines marring the tanned skin around his face were noticeably deeper than before, more akin to trenches than wrinkles now. The elf held his hands protectively to his chest and edged a step backward. ¡°It was your power that tapped into mine.¡±

    ¡°Nevil?¡± Larkspur called from the head of the table. Concern shone in her dark eyes. She was already halfway out of her chair by the time Nevil finished his statement.

    ¡°The dark entity is not consuming you. You are consuming it.¡±

    ¡°Say no more, Nevil.¡± Larkspur strode swiftly around the table and placed a firm hand on the quaking elf¡¯s shoulder. ¡°There¡¯s no need to frighten the poor thing. Daana has been through enough as it is. I apologize if she caught you by surprise, my friend. It was an accident, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    Broken from his trance, Nevil turned and glared venomously at Larkspur. ¡°You said she was magic-sensitive. I¡¯m telling you right now, that girl is¨C¡±

    ¡°Is talented beyond her years, I know,¡± Larkspur agreed. For the first time since they¡¯d met, Daana watched the cold mask slip from her mother¡¯s stern face. A genuine warmth lit Larkspur¡¯s eyes, coaxing the start of a smile. Even her words seemed less severe than before. ¡°She is my daughter, Nevil. It is to be expected.¡±

    The dread fluttering in Daana¡¯s gut settled. A fuzzy sensation blossomed within her chest instead, matching the warmth of her mother¡¯s smile. The feeling was infectious. It spread all the way to her head until Daana was so dizzy with joy, she was afraid she might float to the ceiling. Tears slipped from her eyes again uninvited. Hurriedly, she brushed them away with the back of her sleeve, hoping no one noticed.

    Nevil stood with a puzzled look on his long face. ¡°She¡¯s your¡­¡±

    ¡°Daughter,¡± Larkspur said, still smiling.

    ¡°That certainly explains some things,¡± he muttered as relief vanquished some of the fear pooling behind his eyes. ¡°A warning would have been nice. I¡¯m more successful at warding off power drain when I know to expect it.¡±

    ¡°Again, I apologize. I was not certain of her lineage, myself. Until now, that is.¡± Larkspur¡¯s gaze moved over Daana. Fortunately, she caught the unspoken question stretched across Daana¡¯s face and answered without prompting. ¡°Your powers work much like mine. To a lesser extent, mind you, but the similarities are undeniable.¡±

    Larkspur allowed the information a moment to sink in before returning her attention to the elf healer. ¡°Were you able to purge the infection?¡±

    Nevil rubbed his hands together, attempting to warm them. ¡°Not even close. I was able to diminish the infection, lessen the spread some, but it is only a temporary means. What is ailing your daughter is only a small piece of a bigger entity. The only way to completely remove it would be to eradicate the original source.¡±

    ¡°And what happens if we fail to do so before her powers consume it entirely?¡±

    Nevil¡¯s grim stare wandered the room, unable to look either Daana or Larkspur in the eyes. ¡°Best case scenario, over the course of the next year, your daughter dies a slow, painful death.¡±

    ¡°And worst case?¡± Daana interjected when Nevil left the rest of his assessment unsaid.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone knows what happens when a mortal absorbs the ancient power of an old one. If it were the whole entity, you would die. Since this is only a piece, I cannot say for certain. Not anything good is the only conclusion I can offer.¡±

    ¡°Daana, I will do everything in my power to ensure it does not come to that.¡± Larkspur¡¯s face grew somber as she drew inward, consumed with thought. Finally, with her mind made up, she turned to Snag and Ashwyn. ¡°I have offered my best healer¡¯s services, as promised. At this time, I can do no more for my daughter. Her cure lies within the powerstone currently in Oralia¡¯s possession. Before we decide how best to retrieve it, however, we must address the recent breakdown in communication. It has become abundantly clear that none of us are on the same page.¡±

    ¡°Here we go,¡± Snag muttered under his breath as he took up the empty chair on the other side of Daana. He scooted it closer, ensuring there was enough room to kick her under the table if and when the need arose. From his firmly wrinkled brow, it was some small wonder he hadn¡¯t already started.

    Reseated at the head of the table, Larkspur studied Snag in the same way an apex predator watched a scavenger approach its hard earned kill. She leaned forward with her lithe hands steepled under her chin. ¡°You really have no message from Oralia?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He was still nervously eyeing the exit and trying not to look suspicious in doing so. ¡°Like I already said, I wasn¡¯t even supposed to be here. Just got guilted into it.¡±

    The sage superior eased back in her chair, unconsciously gnawing the edge of her bottom lip as she fit Snag¡¯s information into the wealth of thoughts stampeding behind her dark eyes. ¡°May as well get this over with.¡± Larkspur gestured to Ashwyn with a halfhearted roll of her wrist. ¡°Where is Ellisar? I was told she was at the gate last night. As much as I would love for us to continue avoiding one another indefinitely, my patience is running thin. There are a number of questions I would like for her to answer.¡±

    Daana had never seen Ashwyn so miserable before. The orc¡¯s long face looked like it was about to slide off onto the floor and wallow in a pool of its own tears. ¡°She left.¡±

    Larkspur raised a single eyebrow higher than the other. ¡°I hate to pry, dear friend, but in what capacity? Did she leave in the sense that she is currently wandering the wilderness inebriated? Is she waiting for you to join her at the next closest settlement or¨C¡±

    ¡°Left for good,¡± Ashwyn clarified, her voice barely a whisper.

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    ¡°Oh.¡± After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Larkspur added, ¡°You have my sympathies then.¡±

    Larkspur at least had the sense, if not decency, to abandon her line of questioning. Such courtesy did not apply to her faun advisor, Havershire, who braced the flat of his hands onto the table and leaned out over them to get a better view of the grieving orc. ¡°Is it true that all this time you were unaware of our activities?¡±

    ¡°You mean the resistance? Not a fucking clue.¡±

    ¡°Ellisar never told you?¡±

    Ashwyn bristled defensively. ¡°Are you expecting a different answer from me each time you ask the same fucking question? I already told you, no. Ellie did her best to keep me from getting involved.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s knuckles rapped softly against the tabletop, garnering the attention of her advisor. Once more, the pair communicated through a series of meaningful expressions, each in turn growing more exaggerated in effort to sway to the other. Finally, settling back into his chair, Havershire conceded the argument. ¡°This would at least explain why your call to arms has gone unanswered,¡± he said to Larkspur. ¡°It is very likely that Protector Dawnsight is simply unaware that we have need of her here.¡±

    Larkspur did not look nearly as convinced. She leaned further back in her chair, mouth twisting to the side as she glared at the center of the table with conviction. ¡°I already don¡¯t like where this is going.¡±

    The elderly faun offered only an amused smile. It looked more smug than pleased.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to propose sending a company to fetch her,¡± Larkspur continued. ¡°I should not have to remind you that we just sent reinforcements into the United Territories to handle the rogue witch situation. I cannot afford to stretch my remaining forces any thinner than they already are.¡±

    Havershire tilted his horned head at Ashwyn. ¡°Then it is fortunate that our solution is sitting in front of us. After having sat in a dungeon all this time, I¡¯m sure Commander Pride would be more than happy to take on the task and prove herself to you.¡±

    Happy was not an accurate description of whatever expression Ashwyn¡¯s face was attempting to pull together. ¡°Whoa, slow down, mate. I barely just accepted Larkspur¡¯s offer to be a part of this. Give me time to breathe.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time,¡± the faun replied sharply. ¡°There will be no part for you to play if things remain as they are. We need your sister. Bringing her here is a task for which you are uniquely suited, given her notorious lack of trust in others. You are our best option.¡±

    ¡°About that,¡± Ashwyn said with a pained grimace. ¡°After what I dragged Oralia through last time, trust is probably the last thing she feels for me. Love, fondness, sure. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s going to be a while before I can unburn the trust bridge, so to speak. Oralia is not likely to listen to a word I say.¡±

    Havershire went quiet as he considered an alternative solution. With a forlorn sigh, the aged faun slipped the round spectacles from his face and set about cleaning the lens with the edge of his robe. ¡°We have no choice then,¡± he said to Larkspur. ¡°We¡¯ll have to send Daana with her.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Daana squeaked.

    ¡°Her?¡± Snag shot to attention, choking on his surprise. ¡°She¡¯s infected, barely fit to travel! Would sooner sink in quicksand than find her away across the flatlands.¡±

    ¡°First of all, rude,¡± Daana said, narrowing her eyes at Snag. Her next words were aimed at her mother. ¡°Secondly, who said I wanted any part of this? I came here for answers, not to run your errands.¡±

    ¡°You came here to save yourself,¡± Larkspur corrected. ¡°I will not mince my words. The fact of the matter is, you are dying. Regardless of whether it¡¯s the dark entity absorbing your power, or vice versa, the effects will kill you within the year all the same. Your cure lies within the powerstone, which happens to be with the very person whom I need delivered to my side. Our end goals may be different, but the answer to both is the same. Accompany Ashwyn to bring back both Oralia and the powerstone, and you will get your life back.¡±

    Daana sat back in a stupor, processing her mother¡¯s blunt words. It was one thing to know you were dying. To have it stated aloud, in such certain terms, hit entirely different.

    ¡°That¡¯s all fine and dandy, Larky,¡± Ashwyn said, ¡°but it still doesn¡¯t negate the fact that Daana and I don¡¯t know the way.¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s fingers drummed against the table as her stare settled back over Snag for what felt like the umpteenth time that hour. If her furrowed eyebrows were any indication, her opinion of him had not improved. ¡°If only there was a guide willing to show you the way. One, preferably, who already demonstrates an unusual investment in keeping my daughter alive.¡±

    Snag loudly sucked his teeth. ¡°You¡¯ll be disheartened to hear I¡¯ve stopped taking on charity work. My services are in high demand. A lot of the deep-pockets types are scrambling to find passage between the territories. I stand to make a fortune on this upcoming war.¡±

    Havershire leaned over and whispered into Larkspur¡¯s ear. Her expression darkened as she listened. Reluctantly, she extended Havershire¡¯s offer. ¡°We will give you ten day¡¯s worth of supplies, fresh horses, and ten gold now, with another ten upon your return and completion of the assignment.¡±

    Snag¡¯s lower jaw slung open, momentarily taken aback by the offer. ¡°You¡¯re offering actual money?¡±

    ¡°I could arrange to pay you in rocks if you¡¯d prefer,¡± Larkspur replied smartly.

    ¡°No, no, uh, money¡¯s good. It¡¯s just whether or not it¡¯s enough, you see. Awful long way¡­and, uh¡­¡± Caught in an unexpected daze, Snag was unable to form the necessary words to bargain. Probably wasn¡¯t used to people attempting to meet him halfway right out of the gate.

    Ashwyn kindly stepped in on his behalf. ¡°Twenty gold now and another twenty upon completion.¡±

    This seemed to do the trick. The goblin shook his head with a rattle of earrings, blinking up at the orc in confusion. ¡°If I agree, you realize you¡¯re on the hook to tag along, right? I only mention it ¡®cause you didn¡¯t seem like you were all that keen on the idea just a moment ago.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to be much help moping around here. Besides, it might be good to see Ra Ra again. She always was the best at pulling me out of my relational slumps.¡±

    Snag wrinkled his nose at her. ¡°You sure you got the right sister? I seem to recall Oralia threatening to drop the others over the nearest cliff any time one of them brought up their romantic woes.¡±

    ¡°I said the best, didn¡¯t I? A strong kick in the pants might be just what I need.¡±

    ¡°You have a¡­point.¡± Snag said, refusing to admit whatever Ashwyn¡¯s point was, it was obviously a terrible one. ¡°Well sounds like it¡¯s all settled then. The three of us go fetch Oralia for, what was it again, fifty gold?¡±

    Larkspur¡¯s annoyed expression remained steadfast. Her voice cut back in with an edge as sharp as a well honed blade. ¡°Fifteen gold now, and another fifteen afterwards. Final offer.¡±

    Nobody said anything. A swift kick from Snag soon clued Daana as to why. Both Snag and Ashwyn were staring rather expectantly in her direction, awaiting her say. It caught her by surprise actually. All her life, Daana¡¯s opinion had not been one held in high regard. Her wishes were often swept to the side with little to no concern. The moment might have been a tender one had everyone else in the room not been watching her like a school of hungry sharks.

    ¡°Fine. So long as long as you don¡¯t make me step foot on another boat,¡± she said. Two sinking ships was already two too many for a single lifetime.

    Ashwyn flashed her a pearly smile. ¡°Hope you¡¯re a strong swimmer then.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m with Tadpole on this one. No more water,¡± Snag said with a shudder. And then, in what was quite possibly the most daring move Daana had seen of him yet, Snag spat into the palm of his hand and offered it to Larkspur with a needled smile. ¡°Sounds like we¡¯ve got ourselves a deal.¡±

    She ignored the outstretched hand, offering only a solemn nod of her head. It was difficult to see but, behind her mask of cold disinterest, Larkspur¡¯s dark eyes danced in the flickering candlelight, reflecting the smile her mouth refused to form. It was the smile of a predator. All teeth and venom.

 191 - Questionable Stability

    There were many things fauns were known for. They were unmatched in endurance, speed, and cunning. The one characteristic Oralia had never expected to find on such a list, however, was digging. Dwarfs were excellent diggers, goblins too, but Oralia had never thought to lump a cloven-footed species into the same category. As it turned out, the fauns of Lonebrook had not only mastered the art of underground tunneling, they¡¯d managed to do it without anyone from the outside catching on.

    Briony¡¯s cottage was the epitome of quaint homespun living, with its stacked stone walls, straw thatch roof, and picturesque gardens. All part of the guise, Oralia concluded. On first glance, no one would have suspected they were standing over the secret underbelly of Lonebrook¡¯s smuggling operation. The entrance to the tunnel system was located in the root cellar, hidden behind several shelves of preserved goods and crate upon crate of vegetables. Hers was but one of many tunnel exits scattered throughout the village, Briony had explained. The passage she intended to lead Oralia and Rali through would deposit them in the wooded lot along the outskirts of Belfast Manor.

    ¡°Under our feet this whole time,¡± Oralia said as she stood at the mouth of the tunnel, reluctant to follow Briony all the way inside. The size of the shaft had been built with a faun¡¯s height in mind, not a seven foot tall orc. The stooping didn¡¯t bother her so much. Unlike the crawling, which Briony warned was definitely going to happen as several sections of the tunnel were narrower than others.

    ¡°How many witches came through here?¡± Oralia asked.

    ¡°Anywhere from a few dozen to a few hundred every year,¡± Briony replied. She stood several paces within the tunnel, lantern in hand, waiting for Oralia and Rali to follow. ¡°Couldn¡¯t give you an exact number. That wasn¡¯t something we ever dared write down. Now, are you going to insist on a breakdown of its construction too, or can we mosey along?¡±

    Rali lingered outside of the entrance near Oralia, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ¡°I would, actually. For comfort reasons.¡±

    Briony rolled her eyes with a snort and started off into the dim tunnel system without them. ¡°We¡¯re burning candlelight, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Oralia noted the way the dwarf wrung her hands, causing the tips of her fingers to turn pink. ¡°I could task you with guarding the entrance if it would make you feel better.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Rali dropped the hand wringing and adopted a withering glare instead. ¡°Remind me again, what¡¯s our rule?¡±

    ¡°No more lone martyr shit,¡± Oralia sighed.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, missy! And just because I have to follow you into a dark, dingy tunnel of questionable stability doesn¡¯t mean you get to go at it alone!¡± To prove her point, Rali swung her arms dramatically at her sides and marched in after Briony. ¡°Your fuckmate and I have a new arrangement that one of us must accompany you at all times. Seeing as he¡¯s more liable to get stuck down here, the honor fell to me.¡±

    Oralia ducked inside, forced to bend at the knees in order to avoid scraping the top of her bent head against the low ceiling. Thanks to bedrest and Sascha¡¯s insatiable need to shove soup in her face, she wasn¡¯t as miserably weak as she¡¯d been only a few days before. Still, there was no doubt in Oralia¡¯s mind that her lower back would be screaming in agony by the night¡¯s end. ¡°I am forever in your debt, Ralizak.¡±

    ¡°Oh believe me, I am aware!¡±

    ¡°Not so loud,¡± Briony hissed from her position at the front of the procession.

    ¡°It¡¯s because the tunnel is going to come crumbling down on us, isn¡¯t it?¡± Rali whispered to Briony. ¡°I knew I should have demanded some blueprints before stepping foot in this place.¡±

    The light of the lantern bobbed on ahead, obscured slightly by Briony¡¯s and Rali¡¯s respective shapes as they walked single file. Unlike Oralia, the pair could stand at their full height without banging their heads on the ceiling. ¡°The tunnel is perfectly stable,¡± Briony insisted. ¡°It¡¯s your volume I¡¯m worried about. The last thing we want is to alert the local forces that we¡¯ve got an escape route right under their noses.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, about that. How come the Belfasts aren¡¯t utilizing it? Kind of defeats the purpose of having an emergency escape tunnel, doesn¡¯t it?¡± While the questions were genuine, Rali was most definitely using talking as a way to alleviate her mounting anxiety. Oralia could tell by the rigidity of the dwarf¡¯s shoulders that she was a few panicked thoughts from slipping into an episode.

    Maybe they should have brought Sascha instead, after all.

    Even at a whisper, the cavernous shaft amplified Briony¡¯s voice, allowing Oralia to catch the majority of her response without having to strain to listen. ¡°Too suspicious. Our occupiers would know something was up the moment either Trant or Novera went missing. The Belfasts insisted we move the most vulnerable out first: the old, the young, folks nobody would notice. Progress was slow and the soldiers were starting to get suspicious. They¡¯ve tightened their stronghold on the place since. We haven¡¯t been able to spring anybody in weeks.¡±

    The smell of stale air and damp soil grew thicker as the trio traveled further into the maze of tunnels. Eventually even Rali stopped talking, allowing the rest of the walk to pass in silence. Relative silence, at least. The few times Oralia had to crawl in order to squeeze through a narrow passage involved a plethora of muttered snarls and cursing. The instances were few and far between, thankfully, and after a half an hour their underground journey came to an end at the bottom of a ladder.

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    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention there¡¯d be any climbing involved.¡± Rali crossed her arms over her chest and glared suspiciously up at the ladder.

    ¡°I thought it¡¯d be best to wait to tell you. You know, limit the complaining to the least amount possible. Now, do me a favor and hold the lantern. I¡¯ve got to go check for Novera¡¯s signal.¡± Briony pressed the lantern into Rali¡¯s hands before scuttling up the wooden ladder with practiced ease. Although the worn wood appeared rather old and somewhat rickety, it held strong against the faun¡¯s weight. Oralia only hoped it would extend her the same courtesy.

    Metal hinges opened and closed above them with a soft creak, sending down a small cascade of loose dirt. Dingy light from the outside filtered down for a few seconds before Briony snapped the secret door shut behind her. Oralia was content to wait in silence. The same could not be said for her dwarf companion.

    ¡°Alright, now that she¡¯s gone, I¡¯m gonna say it.¡± Rali twisted around to look at Oralia with disbelief dancing in her dark eyes. ¡°How the fuck did we miss this? An entire tunnel system for moving witches in and out of the realm and we never noticed?¡±

    ¡°How would we have known?¡±

    ¡°Just look at the place, Oralia! It¡¯s not your small-time operation. This thing¡¯s elaborate.¡±

    Oralia could not help but smirk at Rali. ¡°Are you upset they did not invite you into their secret tunnel system sooner?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying we spent a whole lot of time around Faris. I thought we¡¯d achieved the status of friends by the end there, actually. And not once did the little bugger mention any of this!¡±

    ¡°I suspect there is a lot about the Belfast family we do not yet know.¡± Including whether they would offer information on Faris¡¯s whereabouts. Traitor to the realm or not, there was still the sticky issue that Trant and Novera held Oralia personally responsible for the death of their daughters. It would be nice if Faris had cleared up that misconception prior to fleeing the territory, but she wouldn¡¯t hold her breath on the matter.

    The squeak of rusted hinges sounded once more. ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± Briony whispered from above. ¡°Leave the lantern behind.¡±

    Rali¡¯s uneasy gaze shifted from the ladder to Oralia and back again. She stepped dutifully aside. ¡°Bosses first.¡±

    ¡°To be clear, you want me to climb ahead of you? So that if the ladder gives out you cushion my fall? Am I understanding that correctly, Ralizak?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, no, no,¡± Rali clucked with a simple shake of her head. ¡°You see, I¡¯m going to be standing back a ways. That way if the unthinkable were to happen, help will be administered immediately and, most importantly, not flattened in the process.¡±

    ¡°I feel so much better about this already.¡± Oralia tested her weight against the first rung. So far so good. The rest of the climb was pleasantly uneventful except for the step that snapped in half about midway up. Oralia had caught herself on the rung below it and, after a few steadying breaths, continued all the way to the open hatchway. The little wooden door was open, allowing a glimpse of the dark, star speckled sky between the treetops above.

    Oralia heaved herself free of the hatch door, grateful that her wide shoulders and hips managed to pass through without a whole lot of undignified wriggling. Briony sat in the tall grass beside the entrance, waiting for her.

    ¡°The loud one?¡± the faun asked, quirking an eyebrow at Oralia.

    A tentative glance back down the shaft confirmed Oralia¡¯s suspicions. ¡°It might be a few minutes.¡± Had it not been for the ¡®no lone martyr shit¡¯ rule, she would have considered telling Rali to stay behind and await their return. Knowing doing so would only result in more shouting, Oralia settled into the cool grass alongside Briony and waited for the dwarf¡¯s eventual arrival.

    Rali emerged several minutes later, muttering unintelligible curses under her breath as she fought to pull herself free of the hatch. ¡°Should¡­have¡­been¡­ Sascha,¡± was the only part Oralia was able to make out. The dwarf pulled herself all the way over the lip and slumped face-first onto the ground with a whimpered groan.

    ¡°Are we finished with the dramatics yet?¡± Briony asked. ¡°Novera can only stay out so long before someone notices she¡¯s missing.¡±

    ¡°We could go and you can catch up,¡± Oralia offered.

    ¡°Over my dead body!¡±

    ¡°To be clear, I¡¯m not hauling anyone¡¯s dead body anywhere,¡± Briony said. ¡°The best you can hope for is a shallow grave and a nice bed of moss over the top to decompose you quicker.¡±

    A toothy smile split across Rali¡¯s dirtied face as her gaze shifted from Briony back to Oralia. ¡°Now hear me out, boss. I know you keep saying we¡¯re out of the game and no more faithful followers, and yada, yada, yada, but this one¡¯s got real potential. She just talked about dumping my body without even batting an eye.¡±

    ¡°Most people would be concerned by that notion, Ralizak.¡±

    ¡°Come on. At least let me swap her for the two dingleberries. Briony¡¯s worth twice what they are put together.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who or what the ¡®dingleberries¡¯ are, but I¡¯m good, thank you. Now let¡¯s get a move on.¡±

    Briony led them through the new patch of dark forest at a fast walk. She would stop from time to time, her large ears moving up and down as she listened for sounds too soft for Oralia to hear. After several starts and stops, she delivered them into a thicket. From a distance, the large patches of gnarled, twisted branches appeared impenetrable. Briony proved this was nothing more than a cleverly arranged illusion the moment she turned and slipped in through a hidden entrance.

    The faun weaved her way through the tangled maze with the sort of confidence that came from having done so many times before. Each time Oralia thought they¡¯d hit a dead end, Briony would duck to the side, revealing yet another hidden passage. At last, they reached the center where a cloaked figure stood awaiting them.

    A subtle hand gesture from Novera signaled for Briony to scurry off again, likely to keep watch. At least that¡¯s what Oralia hoped it meant. She tilted her head for Rali to do the same.

    ¡°What? Got a crick in your neck, boss? Trekking underground bent in half will do that to you, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Go keep Briony company, please.¡± Oralia looked to the dark canopy above with an exasperated groan. To her surprise, she saw something unexpected hidden away amongst the gnarled branches.

    ¡°Oh, you mean recruit her,¡± Rali said with a wink so blatant it was practically audible. ¡°Say no more. I¡¯m on it.¡±

 192 - Resilient

    Oralia felt naked without her sword. Leaving it behind was not a decision she¡¯d made lightly. Ultimately, given the uncontrollable tremors in her hands, it was the realization that she¡¯d be more likely to drop it than swing it that¡¯d convinced her to go without. She had other weapons, of course. All of which were strapped on her person, tucked conveniently out of sight. She was relieved when neither Briony nor Novera asked her to remove them before making her approach. While she had no reason to suspect the Belfasts of selling her out to the enemy, it was better to be cautious than dead.

    ¡°Madam Belfast.¡± Oralia halted mere paces from Novera¡¯s cloaked figure and dipped her head in respect.

    Novera did not return the bow. From her hollow stare, Oralia sensed it was not out of disrespect. Novera¡¯s far-off expression was one Oralia had seen many times before on battle stricken soldiers returning from the field. The faun¡¯s sad brown eyes searched Oralia¡¯s face as she spoke. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know what to call you anymore.¡±

    ¡°I prefer Oralia, but ¡®traitor¡¯ seems to be the more popular option in these parts.¡±

    Several stunned seconds passed before the edges of Novera¡¯s downturned mouth attempted a smile. ¡°Was that a joke?¡± The faun shook her head slowly, causing the ringlets of coiled hair gathered around her shoulders to bounce and sway. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d live to see the day.¡±

    The joke had taken damn near three months to craft and Oralia was quite proud of it. In addition to landing, it did as Oralia intended, breaking the silent tension that hung thick in the around them.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see a familiar face.¡± Novera¡¯s smile faded. ¡°But I suspect you¡¯re here for the same reason the realm is. I¡¯ll spare you the runaround. No one knows where Rasp is. Faris left several months ago to find him and I haven¡¯t heard from either since.¡±

    It was mostly the truth, but there was more Novera wasn¡¯t saying. Such information would only come with trust. Something Oralia severely lacked in her present situation. ¡°I understand why you would be reluctant to trust me, Novera. My reputation, the horrible things I have done in the name of the realm, it is a lot for anyone to overlook. But I swear to you, whether you realized it or not, you and I have been on the same side since the massacre in Sunstorn.¡±

    Also only partly true. As Oralia understood it, Lonebrook had been working hand-in-hand with the resistance since the Night of Stolen Lives. Oralia had only let the resistance think she was in their pocket. Playing both sides was infinitely easier when both parties thought they owned you. Naturally, this was not something one uttered aloud when trying to win favor with someone who¡¯d already picked the losing side.

    ¡°Faris told us as much.¡± Novera¡¯s left ear flicked as the sadness slowly trickled from her somber expression. ¡°Which, if it were true, makes me wonder why you¡¯re here. If your loyalty is to Larkspur, then wouldn¡¯t you be with her now? Trant and I are no fools. We know Lonebrook is not worth saving. Pragmatically, speaking.¡±

    Fuck. So much for keeping her questionable allegiances unsaid.

    The faun narrowed her eyes. ¡°Whose side are you really on?¡±

    ¡°The people¡¯s. I have no desire to be a revolutionist. I am simply trying to right a wrong before it hurts more people.¡± Oralia neatly steered the conversation back on track whilst conveniently skipping over the part that mentioned saving her own skin as well. ¡°As you know, Rasp cannot fall into the realm¡¯s hands. Finding your son first can prevent that from happening.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t know where Faris is.¡±

    ¡°While that may be true, I suspect you have a way of communicating with him.¡± Oralia lifted her head and squinted at the gnarled branches above. She spied three ravens disguised amongst the dark foliage. ¡°If I am not mistaken, these individuals belong to Rasp¡¯s flock. Would be quite useful for running messages between you and others on the outside, I imagine.¡±

    Novera stomped her hoof against the ground. ¡°I don¡¯t know where Faris is and that¡¯s the truth! My last message forbade him from coming home.¡±

    ¡°At the expense of you and your village?¡±

    ¡°It is a price we are willing to pay.¡± Novera lifted her chin and locked eyes with Oralia. The downcast faun from earlier was gone, replaced with the steely-eyed determination of someone who¡¯d already accepted their fate. ¡°Faris cannot be allowed to return. I know my son. He¡¯d travel through the seven realms of chaos to get back here. Whatever happens to his father and me, I ask only that you keep him away.¡±

    ¡°I could,¡± Oralia agreed. ¡°Or I could eliminate the problem at its source. Faris will have no reason to come home, risking capture, if his village is already saved.¡± As noble as Novera¡¯s intentions were, she was right about one thing: Faris would fight. And he would keep fighting, tirelessly, until his parents were dead and he turned around and blamed Oralia for standing by and doing nothing. And he would be right for doing so. Perhaps if he learned someone else was already stepping in, he¡¯d do the smart thing and stay hidden.

    ¡°How?¡± Novera challenged. ¡°Do you have an army Briony isn¡¯t unaware of? According to her, your crew is looking awfully skeletal these days.¡±

    ¡°I do not have an army yet,¡± Oralia admitted. ¡°But I do have a number of favors to call in. How long do we have?¡±

    ¡°A handful of weeks at most.¡± Novera allowed a moment of silence to pass between them, still searching Oralia¡¯s face for unspoken truths. She must have found her answer because the creases around her eyes softened. ¡°I believe you when you say you want to help the people. But I¡¯m not convinced your motivations are entirely selfless.¡±

    There was no sense in denying it. And yet, the willingness to admit it felt equally wrong. Oralia opted to say nothing at all, allowing Novera to come to her own conclusion.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°You must be in dire need of my help to risk everything for a village that amounts to little more than a speck on a map.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Oralia said. ¡°Although, I still do not know what it is you do.¡± Briony had not been very forthcoming with those details.

    Wordlessly, Novera raised her right hand into the air and a spark of silver magic rippled across her fingers.

    That. Explained. A. Lot.

    Of course Faris¡¯s mother was a witch! His sisters had to have inherited it from someone. Forget tunnels, how they¡¯d managed to miss this was well beyond her. For the life of her, Oralia could do little more than gawk like a fish gasping for air. She found her words several stunned seconds later. ¡°You are a healer?¡±

    ¡°The term healer is a bit of a misnomer. As with most things, it is a spectrum of power. There are those that can make a person¡¯s condition better, and those that can only make it worse. I¡¯m afraid my abilities fall somewhere in-between. I cannot heal, I cannot hex, but I can detect afflictions and abnormalities. My real gift is in the research that comes afterwards. Unlike most healers, I rely on knowledge and medicine to help people, not magic.¡±

    Novera started to move forward. ¡°May I see the affected area?¡±

    Oralia stepped swiftly away. ¡°I cannot allow you to do that. The last time I came in contact with a witch it ended¡­¡±

    The crisp autumn air faded away as the stench of smoke and charred flesh filled Oralia¡¯s nostrils. She knew it was a hallucination, a cursed byproduct of her own tortured mind, but she felt the singe of ash against her skin all the same. The heat clawed its way inside her mouth, lighting her throat on fire as it seeped into her blistered lungs. Blinking the invisible sting from her eyes, Oralia took a steadying breath. ¡°It ended horrifically.¡±

    Novera¡¯s voice worked as an elixir, soothing the blistering ache tearing at the fabric of Oralia¡¯s mine. ¡°I have examined many curses before,¡± the faun assured her, coaxing Oralia¡¯s eyes back open. ¡°I know how to take precautions.¡±

    Oralia hesitated. This is what she wanted, wasn¡¯t it? Someone who could provide definitive answers? Suddenly she wasn¡¯t so sure. Either her condition was treatable, and there was a chance she would survive the dark magic coursing through her veins, or it wasn¡¯t. At least not knowing left her options open. A definitive answer meant she couldn¡¯t cling to the safety net of denial any longer.

    Fighting the constant tremble in her fingers, Oralia unfastened the top row of buttons and drew back the cloth of her tunic, exposing the dark branching veins that snaked along her collar bones.

    Novera placed her hand against Oralia¡¯s sternum. A warm pulse of magic rippled from the faun¡¯s palm and spread across Oralia¡¯s clammy flesh. She felt the darkness respond. Unlike Novera¡¯s magic it didn¡¯t push, it pulled instead, attempting to draw more of the foreign magic into itself. Novera¡¯s eyes flared an eerie, silver blue. Her hand lingered only a moment longer, before she pulled away.

    ¡°I am afraid to ask,¡± Oralia admitted.

    The light in Novera¡¯s eyes faded to normal again. ¡°It will prove fatal if left untreated. Although you do not possess the magic necessary to increase the dark entity¡¯s strength, it is slowly sapping yours.¡±

    ¡°Untreated.¡± Oralia rolled the word around in her mouth as she considered the gravity of Novera¡¯s diagnosis. ¡°That would imply it can be reversed?¡±

    ¡°The easiest way would be to allow the spirit to switch hosts. Given what I¡¯ve heard about your encounter with a fire elemental, I should not have to explain why that would be a very poor idea.¡±

    The smell of smoke teased at the corner of Oralia¡¯s mind as her thoughts returned to the nightmare that awaited her each time she drifted to sleep. She saw the terror in Grettie¡¯s wild eyes as the dark entity consumed her from the inside out. ¡®Unfitting¡¯ had been the spirit¡¯s words. It wished for a host more powerful. For the fate of the world, it was imperative to prevent that from happening.

    Novera wrung the last of the magic from her fingers as she spoke. ¡°How to extract it without the use of another vessel will be more difficult. Especially given your unique situation. I will need time to research the answer. Time I may not have unless the realm¡¯s stranglehold on the village is removed.¡±

    There it was¨Cthe unspoken deal Oralia had known to expect. There was no sense in dancing around the topic anymore than necessary. They both knew the severity stakes now. ¡°I require a healer with your talents. You need a warrior to liberate your village. Assisting one another is the only way either of us makes it out of this damned conflict alive. Will you accept my help?¡±

    ¡°I will, gratefully.¡± Novera¡¯s tone was unconvinced, as though she was holding back many unspoken doubts. ¡°In order to uphold my end, I will need to know more about the affliction. Any particular changes or symptoms I should be aware of?¡±

    Oralia rattled off the list of usual suspects: weakness, nausea, muscle spasms, and body aches. It wasn¡¯t until she reached the end of her very extensive list that she realized Novera was fighting to constrain an amused smile.

    Oralia furrowed her brow. ¡°Did I say something humorous?¡±

    ¡°I thought perhaps you were feigning ignorance before, but you really don¡¯t know, do you?¡± Novera shook her head. ¡°My dear, yes, you are infected. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. But did you ever stop to consider that perhaps there was an additional explanation at play? The dark entity is not the only lifeform sapping your strength.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s gaze followed Novera¡¯s pointed stare all the way down to her midsection. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Afraid so.¡±

    ¡°That is not possible. I have always been careful.¡± Admittedly, after surviving the magical showdown with an ancient, awakened spirit back on the Iron Ridge, she may have been less than careful a few times. But only a few. And it shouldn¡¯t have mattered anyway! Oralia thought her age had put the matter to rest a century ago.

    Novera¡¯s timid smile was now a full blown smirk, accentuating the worry lines around her tired eyes and mouth. ¡°It¡¯s early. A few months at most. Orcs normally carry for ten, so you have at least eight more to come to terms with reality.¡±

    This was not reality. Not the one Oralia lived in, anyway. Sure, in the middle of the night, when her sleepless thoughts were left to wander unchecked, the occasion ¡®what if¡¯ scenario had crossed her mind. But that¡¯s all it had even been. Magical thinking. Oralia hated how, slowly but surely, the fantastical was bleeding over into actuality.

    Competing emotions tore at Oralia¡¯s racing thoughts. Alas, her body wasn¡¯t faring any better. It felt like she was drowning outside of water. There was air all around her and yet her damn lungs couldn¡¯t fill. ¡°Is it¡­salvageable?¡±

    ¡°It?¡±

    ¡°If I call it by any other name, then my situation ceases to be a hypothetical.¡±

    ¡°Faris was right. You are more melodramatic than you let on.¡± Novera reached out and gave Oralia¡¯s hand a reassuring squeeze. ¡°Rest assured, I sense it takes after you already.¡±

    Oralia didn¡¯t know what that was supposed to mean.

    Fortunately, Novera spared her the awkwardness of having to guess. ¡°The child is strong and, I daresay, stubbornly resilient.¡±

    Oralia sucked in a mouthful of cool night air as the weight of the situation came crashing down upon her. Amidst the chaos, a single thought wormed its way through. Oh dear gods. Sascha¡¯s going to have two of me to deal with.

 193 - A Proper Groveling

    It was proving to be another cold night without the warmth of a fire. Rasp¡¯s party had traveled until the sun was beyond the horizon before bunking down for the evening. Exhausted, Whisper had gone swiftly to sleep, leaving the others to settle. A lack of fire meant dinner was another cold meal of hard cheese, dried meat, and corn cakes. Not that Rasp was complaining. Food was one of the few things in his life that remained consistently good. The right handful of ingredients could temper moods, foster harmony, brighten the soul, and all without a single complaint.

    Unlike Faris. Who took every opportunity to complain, which was a real feat considering his recent commitment to the silent treatment. If there was anyone who could manage such an undertaking, it was Faris, of course. He made his complaints known by sitting as far away as possible, refusing to share his dinner, and, worst of all, giving an irritated flap of his ear anytime Rasp attempted to contribute to the conversation.

    It was around the fourth unnecessary ear flap that Rasp was finally bothered enough by it to say something. ¡°Faris, are you still mad at me?¡±

    Rasp received a breathy snort in response. While it may not have been words, It was enough to inform him that Faris was not only still mad from earlier, but positively fuming.

    Oh boy, here goes. Rasp pulled a face, realizing the only thing left to do was utter all of the mushy stuff his former self would have kept mum even under the pain of torture. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being an ass, Dingle. I won¡¯t be so careless next time.¡±

    Claiming he wouldn¡¯t put Faris¡¯s life in danger again was a promise both of them knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to keep. This was a sort of halfway measure Rasp could at least try to stick by.

    Faris uttered a single, gruff word. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll be more considerate of your feelings next time.¡± That sounded like something an emotionally mature human would say. Gods, he was getting good at this. The saying part¨Cnot the turning words into actions bit. But there was plenty of time to work on that along the way. The important thing was that Faris now knew he was sorry and the obvious thing would be to put his grudge aside and just maybe share the rest of his cheese.

    ¡°And?¡± Faris repeated.

    ¡°...I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t realize you were scared of heights?¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Gods, what more do you want? Do you want me to get on my knees for you, Faris?¡± Rasp assumed the position with his hands flung out at his sides. He edged forward amongst the dried leaves and pine needles, snapping, ¡°Grovel a little bit? Roll around in the dirt, maybe? I¡¯m not a mind reader. Tell me what it is you want!¡±

    After a moment of awkward silence, in which Rasp assumed everyone was staring at him with mixed expressions, Faris answered. ¡°No, this is good. I just wanted to see how far I could push you.¡± To add insult to injury, the bastard reached out and patted Rasp¡¯s head like an obedient dog. ¡°Your groveling could use some work but, frankly, I¡¯m impressed you got this far. Well done.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it. You¡¯re dead!¡± Rasp launched himself at Faris¡¯s fuzzy shape. The faun went tumbling backwards into the dirt with Rasp scrambling over the top of him. Faris was quick to toss him aside, but Rasp was on his feet and hurtling back over him in no time at all. Grasping each other, they rolled across the leafy ground with neither seeming capable of getting the upper hand on the other. This was surprising, actually. Faris was normally a lot faster to put Rasp in his place.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe this! You¡¯re out of shape.¡± Rasp laughed as he wriggled free of Faris¡¯s grasp with relative ease. He switched positions before Faris could catch him, hooking the crook of his arm over the faun¡¯s throat from behind. ¡°Four months without me was all it took to turn you soft.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not soft!¡± Faris managed to choke out between sputtered gasps for air.

    ¡°Gross. There¡¯s such a thing as too much information, Dingle.¡±

    Over the strained huffs and grunts of their very sad attempt at reconciliation, Rasp heard June¡¯s voice announce to no one in particular. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve seen a thing or two about the birds and bees, but never anything quite like this. It¡¯s like they¡¯re trying to strangle each other with their love.¡±

    Hop, per usual, was focused on the unimportant part of what June said. ¡°I have a feeling I¡¯m going to regret asking, but you¡¯ve seen a thing or two?¡±

    ¡°Well yeah, sure. My home was in this secluded bit of forest just outside of Faris¡¯s village. Aunty Dagmar hid our place real well using magic and whatnot. Very idyllic. Sort of became a secret nookie spot for all the local lovers.¡±

    ¡°Dear gods, there¡¯s that regret. I feel it now.¡±

    ¡°Hey, if they wanted to keep it private, they wouldn¡¯t have been doing it in my front yard,¡± June said. ¡°Oddly, I only ever saw Faris there once.¡±

    ¡°No, no, no!¡± Faris sputtered from the ground, where Rasp was still trapping him in a headlock. ¡°June, whatever you¡¯re about to say next, just don¡¯t.¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Relax, Faris. I¡¯m not going to say anything scandalous. All I saw was you getting your heart broken by that Billings lad. Real tragic, actually. Was like watching someone¡¯s soul wither and leave their body,¡± June said. ¡°I suppose I should be congratulating you. It¡¯s good to see you finally found your special someone. Would still prefer it if you two consecrated your love somewhere out of sight, though. Just saying. He is my brother. Feels weird.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s shoulders bristled at the implication. ¡°We¡¯re just friends!¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± June agreed, unconvinced.

    ¡°Tell her, Faris!¡±

    ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m not even sure we¡¯re friends anymore.¡± Faris panted as he tried to break free of the stranglehold Rasp had around his neck. ¡°This is not how friends treat one another!¡±

    ¡°Agree to disagree.¡± Over the drumming of the heartbeat in his ears, Rasp could just barely pick out Father¡¯s call in the distance. He ignored it, adjusting his stranglehold on Faris¡¯s throat so that his friend could still breathe but not get away. This, after all, was far better than listening to his father gripe about Rasp scarfing down all of his dinner without sharing. ¡°A true friend gives you the walloping you deserve. That¡¯s how you know I¡¯m a true friend, Faris. I don¡¯t put on the kiddie gloves when it comes time to teach you a lesson!¡±

    ¡°I am not the one who needs to be taught a lesson!¡±

    Croak!

    ¡°And yet, our circumstances would be switched if you were in better shape now, wouldn¡¯t it? Consider this my way of encouraging you to do better.¡±

    At last, Faris broke Rasp¡¯s hold and rolled forward, flipping him over his shoulders and into the dirt with a slam. ¡°I¡¯m going to end you!¡±

    The abrupt landing knocked the air from Rasp¡¯s lungs. He managed a weak smile despite the sudden inability to catch his breath. ¡°See? It¡¯s working already.¡±

    Rasp heard Faris¡¯s hooves scrape against the ground as he lunged. Given the lack of light, Rasp couldn¡¯t see the fucker coming but knew he was moments away from having his insides turned into outsides. Wind whipped between them a split second before Faris¡¯s dark form descended, throwing the pair sprawling several feet in opposite directions.

    Crap. They¡¯d gone too far, apparently, and awoken the only slumbering member of the party. Rasp rolled onto his side and covered his head, waiting for the whirlwind of debris to run its course. Whisper didn¡¯t have the energy necessary to maintain the torrent for long. As predicted, the gale died down shortly after.

    Rasp kept his arms wrapped over his head in the event he provoked a second whirlwind. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry. We didn¡¯t mean to wake you, but you could have just used your words you know.¡±

    Don¡¯t speak.

    Somebody was grumpier than usual.

    Stop running your thoughts and listen. Your father¡¯s mind is moving too rapidly for me to translate. Tell me what he is saying.

    The soft pitter-patter of clawed feet hopped along the dirt beside Rasp, indicating that Father was no longer airborne. Rasp listened to the raven¡¯s guttural clicks and caws before attempting to translate for the rest of the group. ¡°He says¨C¡±

    Using your thoughts, little bird. I fear there are others listening.

    The dots within Rasp¡¯s mind not only connected, but started to flash like giant beacons of fire. We¡¯re being stalked, he translated. Father didn¡¯t get an exact count, but they¡¯ve got numbers on their side and they¡¯re closing in. We need to move east before they surround us completely.

    I will communicate this with the others. Please remain silent.

    Rasp heard a muffled squeak across from him. It had come from June, the only one of the four that had not yet had the displeasure of having a second voice in their head. She was coping better than most though, managing to stifle her surprise.

    Whisper had instructed Rasp to keep quiet, not still. He unwrapped his arms from around his head and used them to push his body into an upright position. Tilting his head side to side, Rasp strained to catch any signs of danger. He heard the rattle of the breeze blustering the treetops above and the harmonic songs of the frogs and crickets hidden amongst the undergrowth below, but nothing he deemed out of place.

    Warmth rippled across his skin, warning him of a lurking presence that hadn¡¯t been there before.

    Drawing within himself, Rasp cut off the outside world and summoned his sixth sense. Due to that afternoon¡¯s unexpected flying lesson, his powers had not yet fully returned. While this meant he didn¡¯t have the reserves necessary to cause mass destruction, he had enough to investigate. Rasp unclenched his hand and his magic swept across the group. With his aura vision activated, he could pick out the individual signatures of the magically-gifted members of the group. Hop¡¯s aura glowed pale purple, June¡¯s was beside the faun, a lovely pulsing green, with Whisper¡¯s sapphire energy glowing brighter than both of theirs combined.

    The source of the additional presence was a little further away and¡­up? In the trees, likely, given its unusual proximity from the ground. It was small, too, and glowed with a green energy similar to June¡¯s. Rasp wasn¡¯t sure if any of the others were watching him, but he tried anyway. He lifted his finger, pointing in the direction of the unfamiliar aura.

    Father provided the answer with a low hiss.

    A¡­hawk? Rasp furrowed his brow, unsure of whether he¡¯d heard right. That¡¯s what was spying on them? Sure, he had ravens to do his spywork, but as far as he was concerned, that was an ability tied specifically to his people. Was that something other witches could do as well? Suddenly he wasn¡¯t feeling so special.

    Whisper¡¯s voice rippled across his mind. A shapeshifter.

    That explained why they had similar energy to June then. Also, fuck. Rasp suspected he knew the answer, but didn¡¯t see the harm in allowing someone else to shatter his hopes for a successful escape. He channeled his thoughts to Whisper, asking, So if we run?

    It will follow, Whisper confirmed. Alerting the others of our movement.

    You got a plan then?

    We kill it. And then we run like all of chaos is behind us.

    Rasp¡¯s mind was already scattering in several different directions when his sixth sense pinged stronger than before, alerting him of another magical presence. This one was larger, human-sized, judging from the shape of its glistening silver aura. The magical stranger strode boldly out from between the trees and called out in a nauseatingly familiar tone, ¡°Good evening again, gents! And lady. And¡­¡± there was a noticeable pause as Rasp assumed the speaker¡¯s stare settled on Whisper. ¡°Whatever our fae friend goes by. I must say, it¡¯s a relief to finally have all of you together at once. It¡¯s going to make this so much easier for me.¡±

 194 - The Cruel Smile Of Fate [End of Book 3]

    Rasp¡¯s mind raced, sifting through memories of the last several days to place the speaker. The pieces fitted together rather quickly¨Cthe voice, the distinct silver aura, the smug confidence that made Rasp want to drive his fist into the speaker¡¯s face repeatedly. ¡°Dingle?¡± He called over his shoulder to Faris. ¡°Is this the witch you hobbled the other day? You know, when I was saving your ass from the earth elemental?¡±

    Faris¡¯s voice was laden with trepidation. So much so, he didn¡¯t bother to correct Rasp¡¯s totally accurate recount of the fight. ¡°I could have sworn I broke his leg.¡±

    ¡°Irvan.¡± The approaching witch kindly reminded them of his name. ¡°And you did indeed, Mister Belfast. Fortunately for me, broken bones are but a minor inconvenience.¡±

    Rasp cursed their luck. This was why it was essential to ensure every member of the decimated party was taken care of before moving on. Sole survivors bent on revenge had a nasty habit of causing unexpected hiccups down the road. Admittedly, sole survivors weren¡¯t usually this calm and collected. Irvan was behaving like a perfect gentleman so far, which, in Rasp¡¯s limited experience with perfect gentlemen, meant there was a wolf lurking beneath the polished veneer.

    Faris must have sensed it too. ¡°How do you know my name?¡±

    ¡°We know your importance now, and how the Speaker of the People is using you to draw the devil witch into his net. I¡¯m afraid we had to take steps to keep that from happening.¡± Irvan¡¯s silver aura came to a standstill at the edge of camp across from them. Rasp heard the creak of old leather being drawn open. A momentary rustle followed before Irvan withdrew something from his bag and tossed it before them. Regrettably, without the aid of light, Rasp couldn¡¯t tell what it was. All he heard was the soft thud of something feathery strike the ground.

    ¡°Auntie!¡± June¡¯s shriek turned to an agonized wail. Her howl morphed into something deeper, an animalistic, guttural roar, as her bones rearranged themselves with a series of wet pops and snaps into a form better suited for ripping out throats with her teeth.

    ¡°Sorry about your messenger bird.¡± Irvan remained hauntingly apathetic to June¡¯s transformation. His next words were the same as the first, calm, collected, and dripping with feigned sympathy. ¡°And your mule.¡±

    From the corner of his eye, Rasp saw the hawk¡¯s green aura swoop down from its perch and hurtle past. A pained bray filled the still night air a split moment before Bonecrusher¡¯s heavy body struck the ground. Rasp whipped around, following her panicked screams to their source. The mule¡¯s cries of pain faded as her thrashing legs went still. The shapeshifter¡¯s aura stood beside the dying mule, glimmering notably larger than it had been only moments before.

    The newcomer could shift faster than June, indicating either a surplus of power, experience, or an unfortunate combination of the two. Alas, such critical information was lost on June. Caught in the throes of bloodlust, her bear-shaped aura barreled towards the newcomer with a roar. The attacker shifted again, as effortlessly as before. Their feathery wings beat the air as they took to the sky, only to be slammed back down from a swipe of June¡¯s front paw. Their auras tangled together in a symphony of shrieks and snarls as the entire encampment turned to chaos.

    Scalding hot magic filled the air. Rasp winced, feeling it singe the hair from his eyebrows as the blistering wind whipped in Irvan¡¯s direction. Irvan responded, his silver glow thrumming brighter as he willed an incantation to life. The spell surged forth like a wave across still water. Rasp was knocked off his feet when the two magics clashed. The competing auras flared, lighting the surrounding darkness ablaze with blue and silver. The tang of sweet fruit and moss permeated the gusty air, battling for supremacy against the overpowering stench of spoiled garlic and metal.

    Rasp staggered to his feet, only to dive back down again to avoid being crushed by June¡¯s flailing shape as she and the other shifter tumbled past, interlocked in battle.

    Seven realms! He¡¯d never felt so out of place during a battle before. Rasp was used to being caught in the action, center stage, with hot rage pumping through his veins. Not like this, utterly useless and stuck on the sidelines. Rasp clambered back onto his unsteady legs in time to see a wave of silver magic engulf the blue. A blazing pulse of light rippled from Irvan¡¯s phantom form as he chanted unfamiliar words. The spell burned as bright as a solar flare before blinking out entirely.

    Darkness returned and blanketed the stony forest floor in night¡¯s shadow once more.

    Whisper¡¯s small aura crumpled to the ground with an agonized whimper. Their magic flickered, steadily fading until its telltale blue glow was barely perceptible. Rasp stumbled towards Whisper¡¯s dimming form, feeling the ice cold grip of fear seize his heart. ¡°No, no, no.¡± He hollered over his shoulder, not a hundred percent sure where the fifth member of their party had ended up amidst the shuffle, ¡°Hop! A little help?¡±

    Hop, probably hunkered down somewhere in fear, did not answer Rasp¡¯s call for aid. Not in the verbal sense anyway. Rasp did hear the rustle of brush as the timid faun extracted himself from whatever vegetation he¡¯d dove headfirst into the moment trouble had broken out.

    ¡°Tell me what you see, Hop,¡± Rasp prompted.

    ¡°Whisper¡¯s alive,¡± Hop said with marked hesitation. ¡°But it¡¯s not good.¡±

    Rasp altered course, moving towards Irvan like a suicidal moth drawn to a particularly annoying flame. ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me what the fuck you just did,¡± he said, putting on his best ¡®that¡¯s right, I¡¯m in charge here¡¯ voice. It was a shame none of the rest of him reflected as such. ¡°Or I¡¯m going to pull your fingernails off one by one and feed them to you until you choke.¡±

    ¡°You pompous little shit.¡± Irvan¡¯s gratingly annoying voice was still as bold and brash as ever, but interlaced with an unmistakable thread of pain. ¡°You burned two of my colleagues alive and crushed another. And you have the audacity to be angry at me?¡±

    ¡°That should have been your sign to stop trying to take us prisoner, yeah?¡±

    ¡°I offered you the chance to come peacefully. All you had to do was say yes!¡± Contrary to Irvan¡¯s rise in volume, his silver aura was steadily dimming. ¡°¡®Make an example. Change his mind.¡¯ That¡¯s what the Sage Superior told me. Well there it is, boy.¡± Irvan spat at the ground, whether it was from a mouthful of blood or simple disdain, Rasp couldn¡¯t decipher. ¡°Let¡¯s see how far you get without your fae master.¡±

    Fury rose up from the depths and flooded Rasp¡¯s tightening chest with molten rage. He dug deep, summoning any magic he could find. But there was nothing to spare. His reserves hadn¡¯t yet recovered from that day¡¯s flying adventure. Rasp¡¯s hands clenched as he considered doing something horrifically stupid. Fists didn¡¯t require magic. And, from Irvan¡¯s labored breath, it sounded as if Whisper had done more than half of the work already. Rasp would just be completing the job.

    ¡°Message received.¡± A predatory smile split across Rasp¡¯s face. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for me to send your boss a message back.¡±

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    ¡°Stay where you are or the fae dies!¡± Irvan¡¯s voice flooded with panic. Still, their aura dimmed fainter and fainter as magic slowly bled from his body. ¡°I already willed the iron poisoning deeper. Come any closer, I¡¯ll send it straight to their heart. Your master will be dead before you reach me.¡±

    ¡°Rasp!¡± Hop yelled, halting Rasp in his tracks. ¡°For once in your life, think before acting, please. I don¡¯t know what we¡¯re dealing with yet. Don¡¯t go out of your way to make it worse.¡±

    All eyes were on him. Rasp could feel it. Somewhere amongst the chaos, June, Faris, and the mystery shapeshifter must have realized shit was going down and ceased their fighting. They¡¯d all gone deathly quiet, save for the sounds of June¡¯s huffing breathing. ¡°Is what he saying true?¡± Rasp asked Hop. ¡°Can he make the iron poisoning go to Whisper¡¯s heart?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I don¡¯t think we can¡¯t risk finding out, either.¡±

    Shit. And here he was, blood pumping and ready for a fight. Rasp glared in Irvan¡¯s direction and scowled. ¡°So how exactly do you see this ending? Is this one of those, agree to come with us and I¡¯ll lift the hex situations?¡±

    Irvan¡¯s laugh was even more unnerving than his speaking voice. The strength in the witch¡¯s legs gave out as his phantom aura sank to the ground. Talking sounded as though it had become more a chore which, regrettably, still didn¡¯t prevent Irvan from doing it in the most annoying way possible. ¡°No, no, dear boy. Such a plan would be far too easy for you to thwart. I just cursed your fae friend to death, you see. If you wish for them to live, then you will need the Sage Superior¡¯s mercy to lift the hex.¡±

    Hop was speaking in a low voice to Whisper. Unfortunately, Rasp couldn¡¯t make out what was being said on account of Irvan¡¯s loudmouth ramblings. The witch carried on, ¡°I can tell you¡¯re still thinking of running. And yes, you might slip through our fingers again tonight, but you won¡¯t get far. There are over thirty members of The Sons and Daughter of Resistance assembled all around these woods. They¡¯re not going to waste their energy on a direct attack, either. They have orders to hound you, run you ragged day and night, waiting for the exhaustion to set in as their net steadily draws tighter. When they finally make their move, none of you will have the strength to fight.¡±

    Dread hung thick in the air like smoke from a poorly ventilated fire. It clogged the airways, choking off Rasp¡¯s air as the realization that they were doomed slowly sank in.

    Irvan issued his final ultimatum with the sort of smugness that implied he knew they were had. ¡°Surrender, now, and it won¡¯t have to come to that. I¡¯ll take you back to the Sage Superior, myself, and get this all sorted out for you.¡±

    Caught in an internal whirlwind of racing thoughts, Rasp didn¡¯t hear Faris¡¯s approaching hoof steps until he pressed close, whispering, ¡°If he possesses the power to hex, then he possesses the power to lift it as well. We don¡¯t need their leader. We just need to get it out of him.¡±

    ¡°And how do we do that?¡± Rasp asked, hopeful that the answer involved fists.

    ¡°Adriel,¡± Irvan disrupted their whispered huddle as he called across to the shapeshifter who, by some sheer miracle, was still apparently alive. ¡°It¡¯s time. Return to the others and send word to the Sage Superior. Tell her they refused.¡±

    ¡°Your rest was earned well, Brother Irvan,¡± Adriel replied.

    ¡°Now hold on, we haven¡¯t decided¨C¡± The rest of Faris¡¯s sentence was swallowed by a gasping squeak, followed by a whispered, ¡°Muck.¡±

    Across from him, Rasp watched mystified as Irvan¡¯s weak silver glow was swallowed by the dark. He didn¡¯t want to ask. Feared to, in fact, but short of going up and prodding the body with a stick, there wasn¡¯t any other way to know. ¡°Did he just¡­¡±

    Faris sounded as stunned as Rasp felt. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    While Rasp had fully intended to carry out the job himself, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder what powers could drive a man to such extremes. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°To force our hand,¡± Faris replied grimly.

    Little bird, Whisper¡¯s voice rippled across Rasp¡¯s thoughts, sickly and weak. Stop the shapeshifter. Buy us time.

    While he would never admit it, Rasp was secretly grateful someone was finally telling him what to do. He turned and charged in Adriel¡¯s direction. The shapeshifter saw him coming and shifted to something smaller. Too small to be a hawk, Rasp realized, as he watched the tiny green glow dart between June¡¯s paws. June¡¯s bear form was too cumbersome to catch it. She stamped about, snapping her jaws, and eliciting frustrated growls each time the tiny creature eluded her.

    Rasp cleared the stretch of encampment and threw himself into a dive, clasping his hands around the little green aura as his body struck the ground and rolled. The shapeshifter gave a squeak of terror, their tiny, fuzzy body clawing at Rasp¡¯s hands, as it forced its mouse-shaped body through his fingers. The shapeshifter leapt free with Rasp hot on its tail.

    Sharp branches whipped at Rasp¡¯s unprotected face as he scrambled on all fours after the mouse. In what was possibly the most undignified fight of his life, against an opponent a hundredth his size, Rasp flipped, flailed, and rolled his way to victory. Sore, bleeding, and desperately trying to fill his blistering lungs, he rose from the prickly undergrowth victorious. He proudly held his interlocked hands aloft.

    ¡°I got¨Cah!¡± Pain ripped through Rasp¡¯s body as the mouse sank its teeth into him. His hands spasmed, loosening his interlaced fingers just enough for his quarry to spring free. Father¡¯s harsh cry reverberated within Rasp¡¯s ears as the raven swooped down from above. There was a furious flap of feathery wings and a sudden, piercing shriek before the ruckus went suspiciously quiet.

    Rasp sucked the blood weeping from his hand, silently hoping magic shapeshifting mice didn¡¯t carry disease. He glanced back and forth, realizing he no longer saw the shapeshifter¡¯s tiny green glow. ¡°Dad?¡±

    Croak?

    There were far more pressing matters at hand, undoubtedly. Still, Rasp couldn¡¯t move past the nauseating feeling churning in the pit of stomach until he knew for certain. ¡°Did you just¡­eat him?¡±

    Father confirmed Rasp¡¯s suspicions with a snap of his bill.

    Rasp attempted to process this shocking information. Unfortunately, this involved stating all of it out loud. ¡°You¡¯re a bird, who used to be human. Who just ate a mouse, that was actually a person.¡±

    ¡°Rasp,¡± Faris called, trying to snap him out of it.

    Unfortunately, there would be no snapping of anything. Rasp feared his mind had beat Faris to it. ¡°On the scale of cannibalism, I think this might be a six.¡± He listened to his father¡¯s resulting protest before nodding his head in stunned agreement. ¡°You know what, I¡¯ll give it to you. It¡¯s a seven.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this,¡± Faris said, touching Rasp¡¯s elbow in that concerned way friend¡¯s do when they realize they¡¯re the only sane one left, ¡°but I think your father¡¯s cannibalism is the least of our concerns right now.¡±

    Right. Back to the hopeless reality of death and gloom. Rasp turned in Whisper¡¯s direction as the last of his phantom vision petered out, giving way to utter darkness. Rather fitting, given the circumstances. ¡°How do we fix this?¡±

    To his relief, it was Whisper who answered. Well, relieved until the weight of their words settled, at least. After that, there would be no relief. ¡°We don¡¯t. There isn¡¯t time.¡± Whisper¡¯s voice was weak and writhing with agony. ¡°We have to move before our pursuers realize they no longer have eyes on our location.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡±

    ¡°I am going into a state of stasis within your pack.¡±

    Terrible start so far. Rasp hoped that whatever Whisper said next, it would be better and, most importantly, not delivered in riddle form. He really hated that. Clear cut instructions were the only way to go.

    ¡°At which point,¡± Whisper said between small gasps for breath, ¡°you may have to try your hand at taking charge in my absence.¡±

    The impossible weight of responsibility settled onto Rasp¡¯s impetuous shoulders. Other than being born with a natural capacity for ordering others about, he didn¡¯t know the first thing about being a leader. Somewhere, beyond the veil of space and time, he felt the cruel face of fate smiling down upon him, elated that he¡¯d finally exhausted his ability to run. There was no other option now. The sixth son of a mighty Stoneclaw warrior, bearer of the silver-hair, was being called to step up and accept the role assigned to him.

    Dear gods, Rasp thought as the overwhelming urge to crawl into a hole and hide swept over him. Why couldn¡¯t it have been a damn riddle instead?

 Status Update (Updated 6/25)

    I made this announcement some weeks ago in an author''s note, but I''ll go ahead and announce it here for visibility for those who missed it.

    As of today''s chapter, book three is complete. I''m going to take a break to whip this manuscript into shape for the publisher while working on book four. Rest assured, I''m not going anywhere. I''ve got three more books in this series in varies stages of draft, waiting and ready to go.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I plan to start posting new chapters again at the beginning of August. I''ll be sure to announce any updates as they come. As always, thanks for reading. Hope to see you again in two months.

    Edit Update - Did I saw August? Yeah, it''s looking more like September at this rate.

 195 - Loathsome Responsibility [Book 4]

    Two days. Two long, endless days of lifting his feet and putting them down someplace slightly further away without a wink of shuteye had Rasp on the brink of no return. His body was spent, broken, barely holding on by a thread. Nay, not a thread ¨C one of the thin filaments that made up a thread, only thinner, stripped in half, tattered and breaking. That was what he hung by. But Rasp couldn¡¯t afford to let go, not yet, not now, not ever. He¡¯d already lost his mind to the madness and couldn¡¯t afford to lose his body too. It alone kept him going. That and Faris, he supposed, who poked and prodded him without mercy anytime he showed signs of stopping.

    It was a shame Faris couldn¡¯t do anything about the creeping shadows wreaking havoc within Rasp¡¯s mind. Danger suddenly lurked everywhere, including the places it didn¡¯t.

    Rasp bristled at the sound of the needle-laden boughs as they creaked and groaned overhead. Ordinarily he would have blamed such movement on the wind without a second thought, but that¡¯s what they wanted him to believe. The enemy was crafty that way. They didn¡¯t aim to tear the group apart from the outside alone, no, that would have taken too much time. They were working from the inside out, using every opportunity to wear at their nerves, little by little, until the group lost their grasp on reality and stumbled blindly into an awaiting trap.

    Rasp was on to them, though. Whereas the rest of the group plunged ahead unaware, he alone kept track of the enemy¡¯s constant whereabouts. The hypnotic sway of the boughs overhead, for example, wasn¡¯t just the wind, but witches. Hiding, lurking, waiting to pounce. His pursuers were simultaneously all around and nowhere to be seen. The enemy stayed close, causing havoc anytime Rasp¡¯s group slowed their breakneck pace, but were always just far enough out of reach to avoid retaliation. They had the numbers too. Which meant any time one group of harassers got winded, they could simply swap places with the next.

    The worst part was that it was working.

    Whisper, stricken with iron poisoning, rode within the confines of Rasp¡¯s pack in their white weasel form, taking up as little room as possible. The fae drifted in and out of consciousness. Each bout of restless sleep lasted a little longer. Soon, Rasp feared his mentor would stop awakening at all. Hop was starting to lag as well. His heavy hooves dragged across the soft dirt, barely able to lift them high enough to avoid snagging on the treacherous roots that wove across the dark forest floor. Short of strapping Hop to the back of a bear, Rasp didn¡¯t know how they would continue the moment the faun collapsed and couldn¡¯t get up again.

    ¡°Rasp?¡± Faris¡¯s voice, low and hoarse, broke Rasp from fixating on the dancing weave of shadows. The surrounding forest looked the same as it always did, blurry, looming, and suffocatingly dark, but that didn¡¯t stop Rasp from scouring the murky shadows in search of the enemy. He knew they were there, maybe not up close, but nearby, and he wasn¡¯t going to drop his guard for a second.

    Faris tugged Rasp¡¯s arm for all he was worth. ¡°Rasp!¡±

    ¡°What, Dingle?¡±

    ¡°How close are they?¡± Faris asked. ¡°Because I think I¡¯m onto something, but I can¡¯t risk being overheard.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯d better communicate it telepathically, Faris, ¡®cause they¡¯re all around. Open your eyes. Can¡¯t you see?¡±

    Shadows. Shadows everywhere and closing in. Why was he the only one who noticed?

    ¡°I see the paranoia has set in,¡± Faris said with a sigh. ¡°How about giving your magic a try instead? No offense, but it might be a bit more reliable than your eyesight, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Offense taken.¡± So, so much offense. If it weren¡¯t for the cold numbness slowly leaching the life from his body, Rasp was certain he would have felt the sting from Faris¡¯s insult from head to toe.

    In the grand scheme of things, however, he supposed it wouldn¡¯t hurt to confirm what he already knew. Like his energy, his powers were running on reserves. Rasp was too spent to manipulate any of the surrounding elements. It wouldn¡¯t be long before his power wore down completely. But, for at least a little longer, his sixth sense continued to hold out against the fatigue that was slowly eating away at his flesh from the inside out.

    Rasp didn¡¯t bother with any of the fancy hand movements. Preservation was the name of the game now and every ounce of strength counted. He closed his eyes and drew within himself, allowing his dwindling magic to complete a swift sweep of the surrounding area. He was surprised at what he found. The enemy was not lurking in the surrounding shadows as previously thought, but keeping a handy buffer between them. That probably had something to do with the enraged bear that had charged their ranks earlier that morning. June had managed to take down one and scatter the rest, but it had come at the cost of a singed left flank. She refused to admit that she was in pain, but the telltale drag in her walk said otherwise.

    ¡°Dammit,¡± Rasp whispered.

    ¡°Is that a dammit, they¡¯re close, or dammit, Faris was right?¡± It was remarkable. For someone whose legs should have turned to jelly ages ago, Faris still had the energy for petty questions.

    Rasp scraped the bottom of the barrel for the kick needed to provide an equally petty answer. ¡°Don¡¯t gloat, Faris. It¡¯s unbecoming.¡±

    ¡°Are you ready to hear my plan yet?¡±

    Despite his best efforts, Rasp still came across a little too desperate with his delivery. ¡°For the love of gods, yes, please. And make it a good one.¡±

    The faun had been studying his maps over the past two days, trying to use whatever sparse landmarks were available to pinpoint their location. Father had been helpful in that regard initially, able to communicate the shape and direction of any nearby mountains or rivers. The enemies caught on rather quickly though, and it wasn¡¯t long before their shapeshifters took to the skies. Father had nearly broken a wing in a tussle with an eagle. He was grounded now, forced to stay close to the group for protection.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve figured out where we are,¡± Faris explained in a whisper. ¡°Based on the shape of the river and the mountain range to the south, we¡¯re deep in the wilds of Yuback territory. We must have crossed the border sometime last night.¡±

    ¡°Does that change anything?¡± Hop said. There was no hope in his voice. It was hollow, empty, and brimming with numbness. The fact that he had the mental capacity to listen, much less respond, was nothing short of a miracle. It was the first thing he¡¯d said all day. Naturally, he had to go and ruin it by being well-informed. ¡°There aren¡¯t many settlements in Yuback. And even if we found one, I doubt they would lend a helping hand to the likes of us.¡±

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    ¡°Of course it changes things,¡± June grunted. ¡°We¡¯ll know where we died.¡±

    Faris cut through their negativity and got right to the fucking point. ¡°I think we¡¯re near Kalikose.¡±

    ¡°Guesuntite.¡± Rasp seized his opportunity to alleviate the mood for even just one bloody second. He could feel the looming dread drift lower. It already had Hop and June was steadily getting pulled under. He couldn¡¯t afford to lose Faris too.

    ¡°It¡¯s an ancient ruined city, Rasp. I¡¯ve mentioned it before. Not that you would remember.¡± Hop paused, as if waiting for Rasp to prove him wrong, before coming to the conclusion that nobody ever listened to his long-winded tirades about history-this and important information-that. ¡°Kalikose was destroyed in the early days of the realm during the Great Expansion. It was one of the last holdouts in the territory and the Realm made an example of them to deter others.¡±

    ¡°Only the surface was destroyed,¡± Faris corrected. ¡°Kalikose was one of the first joint civilizations. Humans lived in the upper district, above ground, with dwarfs in the lower. According to my father¡¯s history books, the realm used water elementals to flood the underground city, but there was no mention of it being destroyed. As the flooding happened over a millennium ago, there is speculation that the water has likely receded by now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re grasping at straws,¡± Hop said.

    ¡°Yeah? I don¡¯t see anyone else coming up with any ideas. What we¡¯re doing isn¡¯t working. We¡¯re caught out in the open with the enemy on all sides. It doesn¡¯t matter how far we get, they will be waiting to pounce the moment we drop. Going underground would take away their advantage. Put us on even footing.¡±

    ¡°To what end?¡± Hop challenged. ¡°We get underground and then what? So what if the resistance doesn¡¯t follow? It doesn¡¯t matter. All they have to do is wait topside for us to come back out again.¡±

    ¡°We find a tunnel that leads outside of the city and get out that way.¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re really grasping at straws.¡±

    ¡°The place was built by dwarves. They had to have built multiple ways in and out. It¡¯s what they do!¡± Faris, in a desperate bid to win someone to his side, truly did start to grasp at straws, throwing out whatever baseless argument he could think of. ¡°We might even find an active harmony stone along the way.¡±

    Rasp perked up at the mention of a harmony stone. It was bait, put out purposely for him, no doubt, but he couldn¡¯t help but sink his teeth into the hope being dangled on a string in front of his face. ¡°For real?¡±

    A rune stone had helped Whisper recover their strength once before. It was a long shot, but it was something, wasn¡¯t it? Something was certainly better than nothing.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Faris said.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t know that, Rasp,¡± Hop said. ¡°The realm would have destroyed any existing harmony stones when the city was overthrown.¡±

    ¡°Leaving the ones underground still intact,¡± Faris replied matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Is your entire plan based upon the theoretical existence of secret tunnels and rune stones?¡± Hop, in spite of his overwhelming exhaustion, then proceeded to lay out in no uncertain terms why Faris¡¯s plan was doomed from the start. ¡°One, even if we could reach it in time, there is no guarantee the underground city is even still standing. Two, there is a reason no one goes there, Faris. Do you know how many adventuring parties went into Kalikose that never came back out? All of them.¡±

    The white faun snorted his disapproval. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you believe in the ghost stories.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d be better off taking our chances with the resistance. At least they want us alive.¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you turn around and surrender then?¡±

    Even Rasp flinched at the harshness in Faris¡¯s tone. The combination of fatigue and despair was starting to pull everyone apart at the seams. While he didn¡¯t relish the idea of traveling into the haunted underworld of an ancient, drowned city, their present circumstances weren¡¯t any better. ¡°What kind of ghosts are we talking about here, Hop?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, Rasp. No one does, because no one who has ever gone into Kalikose has ever come back out.¡±

    ¡°Then where do the stories come from?¡± June wondered.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, alright? I just know we shouldn¡¯t go anywhere near it!¡± Hop must have been near his breaking point because he relied on logic and reason to defend his argument, never volume. Not until now, at least.

    ¡°Noted, thank you.¡± Rasp turned to his sister. Her hazy shape limped along beside him, trying to conceal involuntary whimpers of pain each time she brushed her wounded leg against the undergrowth. ¡°What about you? Any ideas?¡±

    ¡°I say we last stand these fuckers. Hunker down and wait for them to draw close and then unleash all of chaos onto their sorry asses.¡±

    June was, admittedly, grieving the loss of Aunt Dagmar in the most traditional Stoneclaw way possible. Unfortunately for her, the people she wanted to rip limb from limb had learned to evade her after what she¡¯d done to the last witch that¡¯d dared to get too close.

    ¡°They¡¯re not planning to kill us,¡± Hop reminded her. ¡°The entire point of this is to return us to their leader in as few pieces as possible.¡±

    ¡°Except for me,¡± Faris said. ¡°They have no use for a non-magical faun.¡±

    Well that explained some of his desperation at least. Unlike the realm, the resistance had not appeared to have caught on that Faris was the key to getting Rasp to do anything. Their captors would only see him as a liability and cut his throat the soonest chance they got.

    It was June that broke the grim silence. ¡°I¡¯m not really keen on becoming some witch¡¯s magical bitch. So if we¡¯re not going to last-stand then I suppose I¡¯d rather take my chances underground.¡±

    ¡°How well can you see in the dark?¡± Faris asked June

    ¡°Decent in my bear form.¡±

    ¡°You and Rasp can communicate when you¡¯re in your bear form, right? As he does the ravens?¡± Faris said, seemingly noticing the look of surprise Rasp shot his way. ¡°What? I saw you talking to her during your little bear back riding lesson the other day. I notice things. This should not be a surprise to you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Rasp admitted. ¡°We can understand each other.¡±

    ¡°Then I vote we go underground. We¡¯ve got four witches and a devilishly handsome faun. Surely that¡¯s some kind of leg up, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m game,¡± June said without hesitation.

    ¡°Me too,¡± Rasp said.

    ¡°For the record, you¡¯re all insane,¡± Hop snapped. ¡°Additionally, we should at least consult Whisper before agreeing to something so reckless.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Whisper.¡± Rasp gave the pack strapped to his shoulders a little shake. ¡°You heard all that right? You wanna go battle ghosts underground? I¡¯m sure you could find some way to guise it as training.¡± There was a suspicious lack of response. No grumbles or growls, not even a shifting of movement. Rasp could feel the weak pulse of their magic, indicating that they were still breathing, but had succumbed to a deep sleep.

    ¡°What did Whisper say?¡± Hop demanded.

    There are moments in life when one realizes that the people they once depended upon to guide them are no longer around. Rasp¡¯s entire life, there had always been someone there to guide him. Tell him what to do, what not to do, please, please, for the love of gods, do that with clothes on. Whether or not Rasp listened was an entirely different matter, of course. But today, for possibly the first time, he found himself without that outside voice, telling him which path to take. The others felt it too, whether they realized it or not. The closest thing they had to a leader was fading and while Rasp loathed the idea of taking on any sort of responsibility, someone needed to make a decision. Why it had to be him, he didn¡¯t know. But Faris was right. It was time they tried something different.

    ¡°Whisper said yes.¡± That was perhaps too agreeable for Whisper, thus Rasp felt inclined to make it a teensy bit more believable. ¡°Also, that everyone here is an idiot.¡±

 196 - False Hope

    Kalikose. It took effort not to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the very mention of the name. Rasp knew finding refuge in the ruins of an abandoned underground city was fanatical thinking at best. It was a silly idea made all the sillier by Hop¡¯s assertions that the city was haunted. Ghosts or not, it didn¡¯t matter. They¡¯d never reach it. Rasp had only agreed to look for Kalikose because it offered an alternative to slowly walking themselves to death for nothing. At least this way they had hope, even if it was the false kind.

    But false hope was better than no hope. Or worse, surrender ¡ª an option whose existence Rasp so far refused to acknowledge. Regrettably, it would only take a few more days of endless drudgery before he started to consider it. With any luck he would drop dead from exhaustion before it came to that, though.

    Until then, it was all about Kalikose. A totally real city that definitely existed and was somehow a better alternative to death. Hurray!

    Rasp kept his reservations to himself, naturally. There wasn¡¯t any sense in letting the others know Faris¡¯s plan was a crock of shit. Which was why, after another half day of slogging through the forest with death at their backs, Rasp was surprised when they stumbled across landmarks that proved they were headed in the right direction. The signs were innocuous at first, simple, unnoteworthy, easy to dismiss. The crumbling remains of an abandoned bridge here, a broken tower there, the washed out remnants of a cobbled road underfoot.

    Armed with his father¡¯s maps, some navigational assistance from Father, and the desperate determination of a dead man bent on evading his doom, Faris drove them onward tirelessly. By the end, even Rasp was beginning to believe the fantasy was real. Kalikose defied logic, sure, but the idea of salvation was a drug unlike any other, and the gods be damned, Faris knew how to peddle his shit. Every twist and turn of the forest came with fresh evidence that they were nearly there.

    Salvation was at hand. They only had to keep going. A few steps more, Faris insisted. That was it. And then they would be saved, freed from the waking nightmare of being hunted for their magic.

    And then it happened. They took the final few steps and arrived at the top of a slippery, fern-infested hill. The trees parted and a ray of sunshine struck down from the clouds, illuminating the lost city below. An angelic choir of pudgy-faced cherubs descended from the heavens to herald the momentous occasion, filling the musty forest air with harmonic song.

    Yep. You¡¯ve officially lost it.

    Okay, admittedly, it probably didn¡¯t happen quite like that. Especially not the choir, as Rasp was so hungry he might¡¯ve considered eating one of the pudgy-faced fuckers. But what good was having an overactive imagination if not to exercise a little creative licensing from time to time? It¡¯s not like he could see what the rest of the group was gawking at. In fact, had it not been for Faris¡¯s fervent chatter, insisting that they¡¯d found the damned place, Rasp would¡¯ve assumed they were still stuck forest-deep amongst an endless sea of suffocating trees. The passing landscape hadn¡¯t changed in any significant way. It was still trees, trees, and more trees, blocking out the blessed sunlight, rendering night indistinguishable from day.

    ¡°Ready?¡± June¡¯s voice broke Rasp from his thoughts.

    His companions each took shifts acting as his guide. He hadn¡¯t bothered to keep track of who or when or how they decided it was someone else¡¯s turn to walk the blind man into the nearest tree, but evidently his sister was on duty now. Under normal circumstances, Rasp wouldn¡¯t have minded so much except, like him, her attention tended to wander. Which meant he tended to wander under her care, too. The last time he¡¯d been left under her watch he damn near wandered off a ledge.

    Rasp held his arms close to his body to keep her from seizing him by the elbow and leading him somewhere worse. ¡°You¡¯re actually watching where we step this time, right?¡±

    ¡°Why are you being such a baby all of the sudden?¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°All of the sudden?¡± Faris¡¯s mocking voice called out from somewhere below.

    Rasp ignored him, focusing instead on the much closer problem at hand. ¡°I¡¯m not being a baby, dear sister. I¡¯m ensuring the hands I¡¯m being entrusted to are paying attention this time.¡±

    ¡°Look, I get it. You¡¯re doing that thing where you act mad about something else because acknowledging the truth is hard, but we don¡¯t have time for this.¡± June pried Rasp¡¯s left hand away from the protection of his body. The fact that she was using only a fraction of her strength was almost as insulting as the words pouring from her mouth. ¡°As much as I would love to stand here and assuage your feelings about venturing deep into the haunted underground city, we¡¯ve got to get a move on. Come on now. No more dilly-dallying.¡±

    Gods he missed the mule. ¡°I wasn¡¯t dilly-dallying.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh, sure. Like you weren¡¯t stalling on account of how freaky the city looks.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t see how freaky the city looks.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right.¡± June threaded her arm through his and started off down the slippery sloped hill regardless of whether or not Rasp was prepared to follow. ¡°Never mind then. Let¡¯s go!¡±

    ¡°Should I be worried how the city looks? June? June!¡±

    In true Stoneclaw tradition, June chose the path of most resistance and slid down the steep hillside at a pace a few steps shy of a freefall. Rasp clung to her like a babe, whimpering obscenities under his breath each time he nearly lost his footing. Eventually, after more close encounters than he cared to remember, the pair reached the foot of the hill. Here the spongy terrain was artificially flat. While it was not uncommon for forests to have flat spots, this was far too uniform to be natural. There was no denying that this part of the forest might have once been tamed by civilization.

    An irritated ear flap reminded June and Rasp they¡¯d fallen behind and that Faris and Hop were waiting for them to catch up. From Hop¡¯s labored breathing, he probably didn¡¯t mind the delay, but their self-appointed guide felt otherwise. ¡°Don¡¯t lag,¡± Faris cautioned as he assumed the lead once more. ¡°This is not the kind of place you want to get separated in.¡±

    While this was sound advice in itself, Rasp couldn¡¯t help but wonder why Faris had felt the need to state the obvious. Getting split apart would certainly make it easier for the enemy to pick them off one by one. Had this been Faris¡¯s sole concern, however, Rasp was certain he would have said as much.

    On cue, the overactive imagination kicked in and started running with wild theories concerning the creepy, abandoned city and whatever had stuck around to haunt it. Ghost stories existed for a reason, after all. And while Rasp firmly believed ninety percent of them could be attributed to tales spun by older siblings, the remaining ten percent fell to the supernatural. As each step brought them closer to the city, and the creepy crawly sense of dread crept from the back of his neck and down his spine, Rasp couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the rumors surrounding Kalikose were not the product of spiteful older brothers.

    The damp air dropped several degrees as they passed under the crumbling remnants of what had once been the main gates. With his left arm still hooked firmly through June¡¯s elbow, Rasp ran his hand along the tangle of lichen sprouting from the surrounding walls. His fingertips dug deep, burrowing through layer upon layer of wet moss and scum to find stone. Rasp pulled his hand away with a grimace, concluding the walls constituted more flora than stone. The wilderness had reclaimed the abandoned city as its own.

    Moss, thick and spongy like wet wool, clung to every available surface ¡ª the walls, the ground, probably the air too, in the form of invisible spore clouds, waiting to be sucked up into some unsuspecting beast¡¯s lungs and start its life cycle anew. Rasp yanked the sweat-soaked bandana that hung loosely around his neck up over his mouth at the thought. The smells wormed their way in through the musty fabric regardless, clouding Rasp¡¯s nose with the stench of wet leaves and sticky sweet pollen.

    It took him a moment to realize why the smells felt out of place. Unlike the rest of the forest, nature here seemed blissfully unaware that fall was in full swing. It was as if Kalikose had been cut off from the rest of the territory, content to exist within its own private bubble, free of outsider interference.

    Terror crawled down the back of Rasp¡¯s neck like an invisible spider. His six sense kept tugging at him, insisting something was nearby, watching, waiting, lurking, but each time he scanned the ruins for signs of foreign magic, he found nothing at all. Something was there, though. He could feel it.

    The enemy must have sensed it as well. According to Father¡¯s report, they¡¯d retreated back into the forest and were in the midst of a heated debate similar to one Rasp¡¯s group had had that morning. Traipsing blindly into a haunted city brought out the superstition in even the worst of people, apparently. Rasp had to give Faris credit for that. While it wasn¡¯t ideal, the faun¡¯s plan was giving their pursuers pause.

    It wouldn¡¯t last though. Ultimately, the decision would come down to whom the resistance feared most: ghosts or their leader. And Rasp had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer.

 197 - Nothing

    Finding Kalikose was only half the battle. Faris¡¯s maps showed the theoretical location of the lost city, not its contents. Accessing the underground district required a still-functioning gateway. And they needed to find it quickly, before the enemy reformed rank and swooped in to collect them. Alas, the only way to find a gateway was to go looking for it. Meaning that, even after nearly three days on the run, there would be no stopping. Just go, go, go until they either found the stairway or dropped dead trying.

    Faris insisted they could rest once they were underground. Worn to bone, exhausted, and tempers flaring left and right, Rasp feared it would only be a matter of time before the others got fed up enough to put Faris in the ground, six feet under. Metaphorically, of course, as nobody had the reserves to dig a damn grave. Hop was already on the brink of no return, with June not far behind.

    It didn¡¯t help that every time June made a suggestion, her idea was shot down almost immediately. On the other hand, it probably would¡¯ve helped had she offered sound suggestions and not moronic dribble such as:

    ¡°We should split up.¡± June slogged down yet another overgrown alleyway, pulling Rasp with her. He¡¯d lost track of how many they¡¯d searched so far. This one, like all the others before, was proving fruitless.

    ¡°No,¡± Hop and Faris chorused together. Although the two butted heads like mountain goats establishing dominance, they at least agreed that splitting up was a terrible idea.

    ¡°We¡¯d be able to cover more ground,¡± June insisted. ¡°Plus, we¡¯re losing the light here. It¡¯s going to be dark soon. Without night vision, you¡¯re all going to be useless.¡±

    ¡°I was already useless,¡± Rasp reminded her ever-so-helpfully.

    ¡°We¡¯re stronger as a unit,¡± Faris said.

    June was ready with a snappy retort. ¡°You know what would make us even stronger? Finding the damn stairway.¡±

    Faris must have been worn down beyond belief because he folded the argument and issued a long, regretful sigh instead. ¡°Fine, go ahead if you want. But stay within hearing, alright?¡±

    ¡°Finally, thank you.¡± June¡¯s grip tightened on Rasp¡¯s arm as she started off with fresh vigor in her step. ¡°Oh, and by the way, I¡¯m taking this one with me.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Rasp squirmed for all he was worth to get away. Unfortunately, his sister had strength on her side, and dragged him along in her wake regardless. ¡°Unhand me! I didn¡¯t ask for this.¡±

    ¡°Really? You¡¯d rather stay with them?¡± For the first time in days, June managed to sound something other than angry. Her tone practically dripped with amusement. ¡°Granted, I don¡¯t know what that tall fucker can do other than hide, but I know Faris can¡¯t fight for shit. I¡¯d take my chances with the bear, if I were you.¡±

    Strangely, that actually made sense. Rasp ceased his futile struggle and fell in step beside her. ¡°While you raise a good point, I fail to see what you get out of this.¡±

    ¡°You would fail to see that, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Hey! I¡¯m allowed to make blind jokes, not you. We¡¯re not that familiar yet.¡±

    Too tired to lift his heels all the way, Rasp¡¯s aching feet dragged through the patches of overgrown grass. The soft soil compacted underfoot, stirring the sweet smells of grass and soil into the air. Rasp kept his ears open and his head held to the side. If something gave Faris and Hop trouble, he didn¡¯t want to be caught unaware.

    ¡°Then I guess this¡¯ll give us a chance to get familiar, won¡¯t it?¡± June said.

    Rasp wasn¡¯t convinced. He might have said as much as well, except the unnerving tickle on the back of his neck was back in full force. It spread from the neck down, lifting every hair on end, warning something was amiss. His surroundings were nothing more than a continuous green and gray blur, but he scanned the towering moss-riddled walls anyway, all while listening for something out of place.

    ¡°I saw what you did to that witch when Faris and I were under attack.¡± June continued talking, unaware of Rasp¡¯s sudden bout of the heebie-jeebies. ¡°If I¡¯m going to be dragging someone else¡¯s weight around, it might as well be the guy who can obliterate an opponent with a wave of his hand.¡±

    Once more, Rasp¡¯s search came up empty. He smoothed down the hairs on the back of his neck with his free hand, muttering, ¡°So you admit it then. You are scared.¡±

    ¡°Fuck yeah. This place is giving me the creeps.¡±

    Rasp chewed his lip, unsure of how much he wanted to share. The group already was on edge. And, despite the rough and tumble front June had been putting on, apparently even she was having reservations about traipsing through haunted ruins. ¡°So,¡± he started, struggling to keep his tone casual, ¡°do you feel it too, then?¡±

    June stopped in her tracks. ¡°Feel what?¡±

    ¡°Like someone¡¯s watching us?¡±

    She uncurled her arms from his and took a step back. ¡°Shit, Rasp. Read the damn room. If you are fucking with me right now, I¡¯m going to¨C¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡± He held his hands away from his body, palms out in the universal sign of ¡®please don¡¯t punch me¡¯. She refrained, which Rasp took as his cue to keep talking. ¡°Ever since we got here I¡¯ve had this feeling like, I don¡¯t know, we¡¯re not alone, maybe?¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods,¡± June groaned. ¡°This is how it starts, you know. First it¡¯s a feeling, and then you start hearing things, and, before you know, the furniture starts moving on its own accord¨C¡±

    Her rant was cut short as a part of the wall gave away only paces from where they stood. The collapse was small. Over almost as swiftly as it had begun. Rasp fanned the dust away from his face and sniffed, noting the sweet fragrances of grass and dirt paled against the sudden stench of stale air.

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    Despite her choice of words, there was no anger in June¡¯s voice. The same could not be said for fear. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be fucking kidding me.¡±

    Rasp reached for her. Partly because he wanted to get closer and needed a working set of eyes to do so, but also because the panic in June¡¯s voice indicated she was mere seconds from bolting back the way they¡¯d come ¡ª with or without him. Rasp¡¯s fingers made contact with her wrist and worked their way upwards, cinching themselves tightly around her elbow. He urged her forward with his knee and was pleasantly surprised when she refrained from kicking him back.

    ¡°Feel free to clue me in here any time now, sis,¡± he said. ¡°The suspense is killing me.¡±

    ¡°The wall next to us just opened? I mean, not that it was really much of a wall, more like a mound of rubble, but anyway, now there¡¯s sort of a hole where there wasn¡¯t and¡­¡­¡± June¡¯s voice trailed as she edged them closer.

    Rasp heard the sharp intake of air through her nostrils. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Stairs.¡±

    ¡°Is it just me, or does that seem convenient? Like, too convenient.¡± Rasp wanted to stop but his mouth was on a roll and it would say it¡¯s piece, in full, whether he wanted to hear it or not. ¡°We¡¯re looking for a hidden gateway with stairs to the underground and, what do you know, one creepy feeling later, and it appears!¡±

    Unless of course the stairs were to something else, which then rendered all of this one big fat coincidence and nothing more. Unfortunately, June¡¯s next words killed this theory before it was given a chance to thrive.

    ¡°The stairs go down deep,¡± she whispered.

    Gods dammit! Yes, he wanted to be the one to find the secret underground passage so he could rub it in Faris¡¯s stupid, smug face, but not like this! Rasp mirrored his sister¡¯s low whisper. ¡°How deep?¡±

    ¡°Too hard to tell in this form.¡± June left Rasp¡¯s side and, after what sounded like a brief struggle, was shoving a warm bundle of cloth into his arms. ¡°Here. Hold these for me, will ya?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s question died on his tongue a split second later, when he realized it was a wadded up bundle of clothing. Still warm too, from residual body heat. Shrugging, Rasp swung his pack around to the front and unfastened the top, dumping the wad of clothing inside.

    ¡°Sorry, Whisper,¡± he said only after remembering he had a passenger curled up inside. He felt the fae¡¯s little body flinch in protest, before it settled back down without complaint. That was worrying. Even in animal form, be it it hiss, snarl, or bite, Whisper always found a way to communicate their displeasure.

    Rasp could hear the wet snap and pop as June¡¯s bones shifted beside him. Her transformation wasn¡¯t instantaneous, meaning he had a few seconds to investigate. Rasp closed his eyes and stirred his sixth sense from its slumber. It responded with the enthusiasm of a hungover man bent on staying in bed. Rasp persisted. He dug deeper, willing it into obedience until, at last, his magic sensitivity groggily flickered to life and spread, searching the inside of his pack for telltale signs of life.

    Whisper¡¯s faint blue magic pulsed within Rasp¡¯s mind¡¯s eye, allowing a small wave of relief to wash over him. His mentor¡¯s power burned a little brighter than before. Sleep was allowing them to regain their strength.

    A low grunt from June broke Rasp¡¯s concentration. He shook his head, summoning the concentration needed to translate her animal sounds into something intelligible. The stench of water rot was coming from deep beyond the rubble, June insisted.

    Rasp wove his fingers into her thick fur and ventured a tentative step closer. His nose was nowhere near as sharp as hers, but he could smell the unnerving stench coming from within the opening all the same. It was wet and rotten and reeked of death.

    There was something else too, beyond the revolting smell. Static hung in the air. The sensation grew stronger as Rasp neared, sending the hairs on his arm on end once more. He closed his eyes and focused on what his sixth sense was trying to tell him. A faint amethyst cloud appeared within his mind¡¯s eye. It rippled and writhed, growing stronger, as if it too sensed him. Like a faint lullaby lost to memory, the magic called to him, beckoning him inside.

    June growled and started to back away.

    ¡°There you are! What happened to staying within hearing? We¡¯ve been calling for¡­¡± Faris¡¯s anger petered out as the soft, dragging scape of his hooves drew nearer. ¡°What did you find?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s eyes snapped open. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean nothing? I can see stairs, Rasp.¡± Faris pushed past to the front of the opening. ¡°They¡¯re intact, too. Muck me, I think you found it.¡±

    Rasp seized the back of Faris¡¯s tunic and yanked him backwards. ¡°Don¡¯t! There¡¯s something down there.¡±

    ¡°What do you¨C¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re here!¡± Hop thundered as he raced towards them. ¡°They¡¯ve reached the gate. We need to move, now!¡±

    June huffed as her large paws stamped against the ground. Her fight or flight instinct was in full swing now and if they didn¡¯t make a split decision, she was going to go full berserk on the advancing horde.

    ¡°Faris,¡± Rasp said, ¡°We can¡¯t go in there. There¡¯s something down there. I can feel it.¡±

    Croak! Father swooped in overhead, calling out his warning.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± The tightness in Rasp¡¯s chest doubled as he translated Father¡¯s message for the others. ¡°They¡¯re not just through the main gate. They¡¯ve got groups moving around the rest of the city as well. They¡¯re blocking us in.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s worse, Rasp?¡± It wasn¡¯t a rhetorical question. From Faris¡¯s somber voice, he was legitimately asking. ¡°Facing an overpowered horde of witches? Or whatever it is that¡¯s down there?¡±

    Dread settled in his belly like a stone at the bottom of a still pond. Rasp turned his head in the direction of the gateway. He didn¡¯t know. Fuck, how was he supposed to know? And why were they asking him? He should have been the last person to take advice from.

    The clack of Hop¡¯s hooves slowed as he neared them, huffing and puffing for breath. ¡°Are we going or not?¡±

    Fuck it. He wasn¡¯t cut out to be some witch¡¯s magical bitch.

    ¡°Everyone inside.¡± Rasp tightened his grip on June¡¯s scruff, urging her forward with his knee. She clambered through the opening, guiding him up and over the lip of broken stone and into the slick stairwell beyond. Rasp stopped and turned, waiting for the others to follow. It wasn¡¯t until they were inside that he decided how to ensure they wouldn¡¯t be followed.

    ¡°Stay back,¡± he said. ¡°Find something to hide behind if you can.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please no,¡± Hop whimpered, having caught on to what Rasp was doing well ahead of the others.

    Croak. The call echoed against the wet stone behind him, filling the space with its ominous sound. Evidently even Father had his reservations. That said a lot for someone who hadn¡¯t hesitated to gobble up a witch when given the chance.

    Too late. There wasn¡¯t any turning back now.

    Rasp dug deep, deep down, summoning the last of his power. Faint gold and yellow magic sprang from his fingers and weaved into the air. With a flick of his hand, he sent it burrowing into the surrounding rock like worms to dirt. The entrance shook and rumbled as the stubborn stone bent to Rasp¡¯s will.

    The entrance collapsed. The gateway went dark. And a man, two fauns, a bear, and raven found themselves trapped in a world of pitch black. The soft rumble of shifting rock and debris slowly died away, making way for the most hair-raising sound of all ¡ª nothing.

 198 - Two Words: Raw Egg

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this. I¡¯m fuming. Positively fuming!¡± Rali¡¯s harsh whisper echoed along the tunnel until it sounded as if there were multiple dwarfs all angrily talking over one another at once.

    The air underground was hot and stale. An olfactory amalgamation of dust, soil, and musty sock hung suffocatingly thick all around them. The stench pervaded the nostrils, the mouth, and eventually worked its way all the way down into the lungs themselves.

    Rali carried on, seemingly unbothered by the abysmal lack of fresh air. ¡°I¡¯ve been at your side for almost eighty years, loyal, loving, committed, and still, you insist on keeping secrets from me. Does my friendship mean nothing to you, Oralia?¡±

    Oralia placed one leaden foot in front of the other again, and again, and again, focused on reaching the end of the cramped tunnel system and, by extension, Briony¡¯s cottage. Her hurried pace was not due to the fact that she had an irate dwarf nipping at her heels ¡ª although that certainly helped ¡ª but because shock threatened to take her out at the knees and she needed to reach Sascha before she lost control of her body altogether.

    What she was supposed to say to him, she had no idea. But looking her fuckmate in the eye before ripping the rug out from under his feet seemed as good of a place to start as any.

    ¡°You¡¯re seriously not going to tell me what Novera said?¡± Rali persisted.

    ¡°I did tell you what Novera said.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, about the deal you struck, sure. You help save her village and she helps you with your dark entity problem. But I¡¯m not an idiot, Oralia. I can tell there was more. Whatever Novera said, it¡¯s gone and rattled your cage something fierce. You haven¡¯t looked this pale since that time Ellisar filled your bed with scorpions!¡±

    Suddenly a bed brimming with scorpions didn¡¯t seem so bad. Oralia clicked her tusks in mild exasperation. ¡°Do you trust that I will tell you when it is time?¡±

    ¡°No! Because I don¡¯t trust your sense of timing,¡± Rali said. ¡°What if it¡¯s too late?¡±

    ¡°I assure you, you will know by the time it is too late.¡±

    ¡°Well that just makes me want to know it even more!¡±

    Oralia and Rali were not the only ones in the tunnel. Briony walked at the head of the procession, the warm glow of her lantern painting the bowed walls in flickering shades of yellow. Fauns possessed exceptional hearing. Anything Oralia said, even in the faintest of whispers, would undoubtedly be overheard. Oralia would tell Rali eventually, as she would the others, but that time was not now. Not while her mind was racing at full speed in every direction available.

    Sascha deserved to know first before anyone else. It was only fair considering Oralia¡¯s current predicament was partially his fault! But it was more than that. Sascha would know what to do, what to say, how to prevent Oralia¡¯s self-destructive thoughts from imploding on the spot. He was good at that sort of thing. Unless of course this was one of those situations that caught even him by surprise, at which point he would be as useless as her.

    He is definitely going to be surprised.

    Regardless of Sascha¡¯s reaction, at the very least Oralia wouldn¡¯t have to bear the burden alone. They could spend the rest of the night spiraling down a long pit of despair together, wondering how in the seven realms of chaos this had happened. They could take turns lamenting about how they were too old, too tired, and too cursed with dark magic to be entrusted with the care of a child.

    ¡°I got it!¡± The dwarf¡¯s voice rang out from behind. In true Rali fashion, instead of simply dropping the topic, she decided to narrow the answer down through guesswork. ¡°You just found out you have a long lost evil twin.¡±

    ¡°No, Rali.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re the evil one, huh? Checks out.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Your parents were secretly evil?¡±

    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± Oralia spun around to face her. Although undeniably faster, her dwarf lieutenant had opted to walk at the back of the procession, to keep Oralia from falling too far behind, most likely. That and to prod her with jabs in both the literal and metaphorical sense. ¡°Do you think it is helping? I am already riddled with every kind of guilt imaginable. Is it necessary to add to my anguish right now?¡±

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    The distant glow from Briony¡¯s lantern painted Rali¡¯s dirt-smudged face in an unsettling light. A wolfish smile slowly spread from ear to ear, demonstrating the unnerving fact that dwarfs possessed more teeth than most people gave them credit for.

    The smile came with a revelation as well ¡ª for Oralia, not Rali. The orc ran a weary hand down her sweat-soaked brow with a sigh. ¡°Oh my gods. You are doing this on purpose.¡±

    In the strangest turn of events, Rali said absolutely nothing. Unlike her smile, which said everything and then some. Too much, in fact.

    Oralia continued, more for her own benefit, as speaking her thoughts aloud helped process what was taking place. ¡°You are badgering me with harmless accusations because you can tell something is wrong.¡±

    Rali¡¯s smile agreed.

    ¡°As you are my closest friend, you know me better than anyone else. Including the fact that I am mere moments away from a critical breakdown in the most inconvenient location possible.¡± Oralia paused, giving herself time to string the final few pieces together in a way that made sense. At least she hoped so. Sense had lost most of its meaning as of late. ¡°All of this is to keep me focused on you, and your paltry complaints, so that I do not venture too far into my own head.¡±

    ¡°Who? Me?¡± The smile broke and Rali¡¯s lips contorted to a demeaning pout instead. ¡°Nah, boss. I just like annoying you.¡±

    The light of Briony¡¯s lantern grew fainter. Unlike them, their faun escort refused to stop. She disappeared around a bend up ahead, taking the light with her.

    While neither Oralia nor Rali needed the light to find their way, losing their guide would certainly prove disastrous. Oralia gazed fondly down at her friend for a split second more, before turning to follow the fading yellow light. ¡°You are wrong, by the way,¡± she said to Rali from over her shoulder. ¡°It was not my twin I discovered, but yours.¡±

    ¡°Afraid that¡¯s not possible, boss.¡± Rali¡¯s clomping footsteps started up again behind her. ¡°I took care of her ages ago. Made it look like a baking accident.¡±

    ¡°How does one perish from a baking accident?¡±

    ¡°Two words: raw egg.¡±

    ¡°That explains absolutely nothing.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ¡®cause you¡¯re not thinking creatively.¡±

    And so they went, traveling the depths of the underground tunnel system beneath the village of Lonebrook, carrying on an increasingly absurd conversation to keep Oralia¡¯s consuming dread at bay. It worked, too, right up until the point they reached the entrance and Oralia found Sascha pacing outside of the root cellar, anxiously awaiting her return.

    Their eyes met and Oralia froze, torn between running to him and whipping back around and taking her chances with the tunnel. The dwarf at her back was making the latter option slightly less doable. Further proof that Rali¡¯s choice in the lineup had not only been intentional, but served more than one purpose.

    ¡°Moonflower?¡± Sascha started towards her.

    Oralia snapped from her trance and edged a tentative step forward. ¡°Have you been waiting this whole time? You should have gone to bed.¡±

    ¡°Do you really expect me to be able to sleep at a time like this?¡±

    No, but it certainly would have made Oralia¡¯s return slightly easier. He¡¯d been her driving force to return as quickly as possible and yet, having trekked all that way to see him, she still didn¡¯t know what she was supposed to say.

    Sascha¡¯s worried gaze shifted from Oralia to Rali. A single look from the dwarf¡¯s dirt-smudged face told him everything he needed to know.

    Oralia was still trying to interpret Rali¡¯s expression when Sascha made his move. He offered her both his arm and a bewitching smile. ¡°Walk with me?¡±

    Timidly, Oralia threaded her arm through his. Every muscle in her legs protested the idea of walking a single step further, but she persisted because the alternative meant laying everything out in front of everyone. At least this way she could ensure there was a sizable distance between them and the cottage before the hysterics began. Whether it¡¯d be from her or Sascha, she did not yet know.

    ¡°You may have to drag me the way back,¡± Oralia said.

    ¡°As opposed to carrying you?¡±

    ¡°Dragging is more dignified.¡±

    ¡°Mhm,¡± Sascha replied in that sort of amused tone parents reserved for overdramatic toddlers. Perhaps it was good he was already so well versed at it, considering the news she was about to drop on him.

    It was well past midnight. Traces of moonlight broke through the thick cloud coverage overhead, dotting the dark forest floor with scattered pools of pale light. The autumn breeze was crisp. It whispered softly overhead, stirring the remaining red and yellow leaves that stubbornly clung to the bare branches. The night was picturesque.

    Much unlike the nauseous churning in Oralia¡¯s gut that threatened to transform her insides to outsides. As much as she detested the walk, she also didn¡¯t want it to end. Stopping meant talking and talking meant knowing what she was supposed to say.

    And then the inevitable happened. Sascha led her to a fallen tree, bathed in patchy moonlight, and settled down. He thumped the top of the log in an unspoken invitation to join him.

    Oralia remained standing. She tilted her chin skyward and closed her eyes, trying to calm the rampaging gallop of her heartbeat.

    Good gods, what was she supposed to say?

 199 - The It

    Autumn clung to the land like a stubborn tick. While commendable, its tenacity was for naught. Its hold diminished with each passing day. The days grew shorter, the nights colder, and the trees were one hard frost shy of dropping the rest of their yellow and orange leaves at the foot of their mighty trunks. Winter was on its way. Soon the ground would freeze, the forest would go dormant, and thick layers of white snow would blanket everything in sight.

    Oralia despised being away from home during winter. The coming season would be unlike most as, for the first time in decades, she no longer possessed a home to return to. She had no house, no bed, no hearth, destined to spend the bitter months holed up in hiding, burdened with the prospects of death and new life at the same time. The thought was almost as chilling as the cool night air teasing the back of her neck.

    ¡°Moonflower?¡± Sascha¡¯s rumbling voice coaxed Oralia from her thoughts. He thumped the tree with the flat of his hand once more, producing a solid thud. ¡°Are you going to sit down?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Really? Because from here it looks like you¡¯re considering scaling the nearest tree.¡±

    Oralia snapped her eyes away from the closest cottonwood, realizing she had been staring rather intently at it. ¡°I feel like scaling a tree,¡± she admitted. ¡°Given the circumstances, however, I think that would be ill-advised.¡±

    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± Sascha said with the gentle patience of someone well acquainted with the art of luring stray cats into the home with scraps of food and soothing sounds.

    Oralia loved it almost as much as she hated it. Mostly because it was working. Stifling a sigh, she joined him on the fallen tree. ¡°I need to speak with you.¡±

    Good start. Keep going.

    ¡°And I¡­it is not something I can speak about with ease.¡±

    Sascha waited for her to finish.

    Oralia was annoyed by his patience. Why couldn¡¯t he interrupt her like everyone else? Would it make admitting any of this easier? No. But a little distraction would have been nice. ¡°The infection is bad, as we suspected, but Novera believes it to be treatable. She has sworn to do everything in her power to find a cure in exchange for liberating her village.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Sascha¡¯s tone suggested he¡¯d steeled himself for the worse and what he got was not that. His voice lifted, betraying the relief that eased the deep worry lines around his doleful eyes. ¡°This is good news then, yes? We already knew you were going to stay and fight. This is more hope than we had before.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more.¡± Oralia took a breath to ease what remained of her frayed nerves. It didn¡¯t help, but at least she was still breathing. ¡°The darkness is not solely responsible for my poor health. There is another condition at play.¡±

    Sascha¡¯s brow furrowed. He looked her up and down, as if expecting to be able to diagnose the issue from a single glance.

    The words still didn¡¯t come. Oralia reached for his hand instead and placed it on her stomach. There wasn¡¯t any sort of distinguishable bump yet, aside from what she¡¯d had from dinner perhaps, but surely it was the sentiment that counted.

    Suddenly it was Sascha who looked to be mere moments away from bolting up the nearest cottonwood. Eyes wide, he opened and closed his mouth several times before finally settling on a single-worded question. ¡°...You¡¯re?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    More stunned silence.

    Oralia hadn¡¯t known what to expect. She was still reeling from the news herself. Still, nothing at all was not the reaction she¡¯d been hoping for. She lifted Sascha¡¯s hand from her stomach and let it drop, clicking her tusks against her upper teeth as she did so. ¡°I am warning you now, if the next question you ask is whether or not it is yours, you will be the one running for the trees.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it.¡± It was as if her words had drifted in one ear and out the other, unheard. A giddy smile pulled across Sascha¡¯s handsome features. ¡°I¡¯m going to be a dad. You¡¯re going to be a mom.¡±

    The very word nearly sent Oralia scrambling.

    Sascha placed his hand on her leg as the smile slowly slipped from his face. The reality of their situation had finally started to settle. His joy swiftly transformed to concern. ¡°The dark magic,¡± he said. ¡°Will it affect the baby?¡±

    Oh gods, another word she wasn¡¯t ready to hear! Oralia severely wanted to slap her arms to stop her skin from crawling. She refrained from doing so, prevented only by the concerned stare her fuckmate was giving her. ¡°I do not know. Novera says the¡­it is strong, though.¡±

    ¡°The it?¡±

    Oralia almost smiled. Her refusal to call the ¡®it¡¯ by any other name was ridiculous and it was a small relief that Sascha thought so as well. It meant he was still functioning, at least. Better than her, anyway. Unfortunately, the next words out of Oralia¡¯s mouth immediately swallowed the temporary relief Sascha¡¯s interruption had provided. ¡°If left untreated, the infection will claim me and the it.¡±

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    Sascha processed the information in silence before contributing his thoughts. ¡°I see why you are reluctant to call the it by any other name.¡± His hand moved from the top of her thigh and settled over her own, offering a reassuring squeeze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You must be terrified.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Terrified was an understatement. And yet, amongst the spiral of fear and anxiety, she kept glimmers of hope too. Having a family brought with it some form of normalcy. She could settle down, put up the sword, do all the things she¡¯d been swearing to do since retirement. Provided she and the ¡®it¡¯ survived, of course. After liberating a village from realm control without an army. Just her, a handful of fighters, against an enemy with all the resources it needed to hunker down for the winter and wait them out.

    Her thoughts had finally caught up to what her body had been trying to tell her all evening ¡ª they were doomed. She was doomed. The entire situation at hand was doomed.

    Fuck.

    ¡°I¡¯m here for you, Moonflower.¡± Sascha squeezed her hand again. ¡°For you and little Merrick.¡±

    The mere mention of the name stopped Oralia¡¯s internal spiral dead in its tracks. The foul word rolled off her tongue tasting of soot and spite. ¡°Merrick?¡±

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d like it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your mother¡¯s name!¡±

    Sascha¡¯s other arm snaked around the back of Oralia¡¯s waist and pulled her closer. His roguish smile came with a wink. ¡°It¡¯s strategic, Moonflower. Name our firstborn after her and Mother will have no other choice but to start liking you.¡±

    ¡°Your mother hates me.¡±

    ¡°Which is why my plan is undeniably brilliant.¡±

    As much as it made her blood boil, Sascha¡¯s teasing served its purpose. Some of Oralia¡¯s inner turmoil eased. She lifted her gaze, meeting him in the eye for what felt like the first time all evening. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    ¡°What you already plan to do, I suspect.¡±

    ¡°Ignore all of my problems until they go away?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, that¡¯s a terrible plan,¡± Sascha said. ¡°For the record, I think we¡¯d be decent at parenting if we tried. If you wanted to, that is.¡±

    ¡°My mother died in battle when I was nine. Father passed shortly after of a broken heart.¡± Oralia¡¯s gaze dropped to her feet. ¡°The mere act of staying alive would put me above my parents.¡± The bar was practically on the floor and yet, it still seemed insurmountable.

    ¡°And look at the bright side. If we pass, your sister can raise little Merrick.¡±

    Oralia whipped her head around at him and glared.

    Unfortunately, all it did was encourage his teasing smile to spread further across his face, revealing his front teeth. ¡°No? Well then there¡¯s always Grandma Merrick.¡±

    ¡°Who hates me.¡± While it wasn¡¯t a favorable detail, it was important enough to bring up again, just in case Sascha had missed it the first time.

    ¡°We¡¯re asking her to raise our orphaned child, not you. It¡¯ll be fine. Mom will take good care of little Merrick.¡±

    Oralia buried her face into his chest with a groan. ¡°I refuse to name any of our future children after your mother. I will not give her that satisfaction.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so we¡¯re having more than one, are we? How ambitious of you, Moonflower. You¡¯re going to have to stay alive to carry that out, though. At least long enough to complete the collection.¡±

    She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, feeling as though she was holding on for dear life. She was grateful for the teasing. If anything, it made the moment less devastating than it could have been. Unfortunately, no amount of jesting could fully alleviate the worry gnawing at her from the inside. ¡°I¡¯m still scared.¡±

    He rested his chin against the top of her head. ¡°Me too.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m scared something will happen to it before it is born. I¡¯m scared the darkness will claim it and me, before it is time. And that you will be left alone.¡± She took a breath before admitting, ¡°And even if none of that comes to fruition, I¡¯m still scared that I¡¯m not ready for this. Of all the perils I have faced in my life, this one terrifies me the most.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re more afraid to fuck up our future children than you are to die in battle?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Admittedly, that¡¯s not the sort of reassurance I¡¯d like to hear at the moment, but I can¡¯t tell you how to feel. You won¡¯t be perfect at it, nor will I. But at least you can fix the mistakes you make with them. There¡¯s no coming back from death.¡±

    ¡°Stop talking sense.¡±

    His hand moved up into her hair. ¡°Someone has to.¡±

    ¡°Regardless, I am going to have to fight.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    The foul taste of soot and spite vanished from her tongue, replaced instead with that of fermented herring. Oralia nearly choked on her own wretched words. ¡°You¡¯re not going to tell me no?¡±

    With her face pressed up against him, Oralia had no way of seeing Sascha¡¯s reaction. From his voice, she could tell he had one eyebrow raised higher than the other in skepticism. ¡°Would you listen if I did?¡±

    ¡°Of course I would listen.¡± Heeding his words, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast. It wasn¡¯t in Oralia¡¯s nature to alter course purely on the whim of another, but this was Sascha and he, above anyone else, deserved a say in the matter. His objection would at least make her consider any and all possible alternatives.

    It was time to cut the bullshit and get straight to the heart of the matter. Oralia lifted her head and locked eyes with him. ¡°I am about to gather an army to overthrow the realm presence in Lonebrook. I intend to do so while cursed with dark magic and carrying your child. If you have any objection to this plan, say so now, before I commit to something I cannot back out of.¡±

    ¡°I object to everything about this plan.¡± He allowed the idea to settle before finishing his thoughts. ¡°But I also realize we do not have an alternative. If I want to spend the rest of my life with you and little Merrick, then I will agree. So long as you promise to not push me away when things get difficult.¡±

    That was doable, right? All she had to do was assemble an army, defeat an enemy that had already claimed the high ground, and survive the dark magic coursing through her veins while carrying a child. Oh, and avoid being a complete asshole to her fuckmate while doing so. All perfectly feasible! So, so feasible. A sane person would have thrown in the towel right then and there and declared it a lost cause. That was the thing about sanity, though. Those that followed the path of sanity typically had better options. Oralia was down to just two ¡ª pull it off or die trying.

    She buried her face back into Sascha¡¯s chest with a groan.

    His strong fingers worked their way back through her hair and scraped along her scalp. ¡°What¡¯s that, dear? Was that a ¡®Yes, Sascha, love of my life. I swear I¡¯m not going to do that thing where I push people away the moment the going gets tough¡¯?¡±

    Whatever swear words slipped free of Oralia¡¯s open mouth were muffled by his shirt.

    ¡°Yes, I know. I love you, too,¡± Sascha carried on, misinterpreting her sounds as he wished. ¡°I was only kidding about Merrick, by the way. But since you fancy it so much, I suppose I could consider it. For your sake.¡±

 200 - Acoustic Warfare

    Daana¡¯s first week of travel through the flatlands was uneventful. The long days were spent in the saddle crossing a seemingly endless stretch of flat tundra, following the horizon and Snag¡¯s innate sense of direction. Daana¡¯s steed was of the same bloodline as Wormy. The breed was native to the flatlands and fared the cold winters and limited nutrition better than their southern cousins. It was not uncommon to see wild herds of tusked, shaggy horses roaming the tundra as they traveled.

    The horses were not the only creatures to call the open tundra home. In the last two days alone, Daana had seen giant elk, cinnamon-colored bears, and herds of small deer with antlers so ornamental they looked as if they¡¯d been designed by an overzealous artist and not nature. There were also goblins. Lots of goblins.

    On her own, Daana would not have noticed them. But Snag certainly did. He was on high alert at all times, announcing whenever he saw a glimpse of an ear or yellow eyes peeking out of a burrow as they passed. The goblins would keep their distance with Ashwyn in tow, he explained. Although the area didn¡¯t get very many orcs passing through, goblins knew an apex predator when they saw one. Aside from a few looky-loos, Snag expected their passage to go unhindered.

    Which failed to explain why, on the eight morning, Daana awoke to the shrill shriek of a flute murdering what might have been a song. It was some distance away, carried to them on the wind which, unfortunately, did nothing to damper its horrific sound. The butchered flute playing ceased after several sharp trills and the meadow grew eerily quiet once more.

    Daana tentatively uncovered her ears, prepared to snap her hands back into place the moment the ¡°music¡± picked up again. Her stare darted to Snag. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Give me a minute here.¡± Snag withdrew the carved pipe from his pocket and responded with several piercing notes of his own.

    ¡°Good goddess.¡± Ashwyn rolled upright out of bed with a groan. She plugged her forefingers knuckle-deep in each ear, still wincing at every horrific sound emitting from Snag¡¯s pipe. ¡°Are we under attack? ¡®Cause this is starting to feel like acoustic warfare.¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯re just havin¡¯ a conversation. This is how different clans communicate with another. Now hush, I gotta listen for the reply.¡± Snag fanned his weathered ears like sails catching the breeze and listened.

    Three sharp notes and a trill followed. Unable to read Snag¡¯s concentrated expression, Daana asked, ¡°Are they friendly?¡±

    ¡°Friendly?¡± The goblin swiveled his head at her, brows pressed together in disbelief. His answer, fortunately, had far less of a bite than his bared teeth would imply. ¡°Of course they¡¯re friendly, girl. What kind of question is that? Do you think a baddie would¡¯ve signaled first if they intended to rob us?¡±

    Heat flushed over Daana¡¯s nose and spread to the tips of her ears. The sudden warmth stung against the crisp morning air. Overhead, the sky was overcast and gray. Dense blankets of fog swept across the open plains, herded by the wind.

    ¡°It could be a trap,¡± Daana said, attempting to offset her embarrassment. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re trying to lure us into a false sense of ease.¡±

    ¡°Suppose,¡± Snag conceded with a lackluster shrug.

    His ears stood at attention when the flute sounded a third time, noticeably closer than before. Snag nodded along until the song playing finished. He responded with two sharp staccatos and a low, drawn out note before stowing the pipe back into the confines of his jacket. ¡°They claim they just want to barter. They¡¯re on the lookout for medicinal herbs and spices. Said they¡¯re willing to part with some firebrew for hard to get stuff.¡±

    ¡°And if it¡¯s a trap?¡± Daana said.

    ¡°Only one way to find out, girl.¡±

    Ashwyn unplugged her fingers from her ears and repositioned them on either side of her forehead. Gritting her teeth, the orc massaged her aching temples with slow, deep circles. Despite an uneventful trip so far, her appearance was ragged, bordering on threadbare. She put on a brave face when she knew Daana was watching, but the disheartened sighs and dark rings beneath her eyes grew more prevalent with each passing day.

    ¡°You got all of that from a couple trills, Snaggy?¡± Ashwyn said.

    ¡°Nifty, ain¡¯t it? I tried teaching your sister¡¯s crew, but none of them had the ear for it. Just accused me of playing sounds to torture them.¡±

    ¡°You did play sounds just to torture them,¡± Daana countered.

    ¡°I mean, in the end, sure. But it didn¡¯t start out that way.¡± He scurried over to his saddlebags and rummaged through them as he talked. ¡°Now, our guests are probably just being nosey little fucks and wanna see what we¡¯re doing this far out. But I brought spices just in case they intend to do some actual bartering. Stick to our story and watch what you say. Just because they¡¯re not speaking to you in Utotrian doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t understand it.¡±

    ¡°Oh! I could practice my Laftak,¡± Daana said.

    ¡°Knock yourself out, kid. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had a good laugh.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that bad.¡±

    Snag glanced over his shoulder at her, still grinning. ¡°You should try asking them where the library is again. They won¡¯t be expecting that.¡±

    ¡°Har, har, har.¡±

    Once upon a time, Daana would¡¯ve been insulted by Snag¡¯s taunting. Her pride had learned to take a bashing since then and, on the grand scale of personal insults, his teasing barely made it on the board. With that said, her insatiable need to be a helpful, contributing member of the group was still alive and well, and demanded to be validated. Fortunately, there were other meaningful ways to contribute that did not involve making a fool of herself.

    Breakfast, for example, did not require one to be versed in any language but hunger. And in that category, Daana was an expert.

    She threw her warm bedding aside and ambled over to the firepit, ignoring the protesting twinge in her stiff legs as the cold seeped through her wool leggings. The fire from the night before had died down to embers, but it would do. Daana set the cast iron pan over the top of the glowing coals and filled it with water.

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    Their campsite butted up against a solid wall of rock formation, sheltering them from the harsh winds that buffeted the land from the east. They were surrounded on all sides by a sea of yellow and brown tundra grass. The vegetation was tall, well over waist height, and provided convenient cover for the approaching goblins.

    The wall of swaying tundra grass parted without warning, and a trio of goblins came traipsing through. They were small and thin, like Snag, with similar moss-colored skin and adorned with bits and bobs of jewelry. Unlike him, however, their faces were not creased from the decades of life in the saddle. Their hides were smooth and relatively unblemished. Daana wasn¡¯t an expert on goblin age by any stretch, but she guessed the trio were on the cusp of adulthood. This was further confirmed by their choice of jewelry. A goblin earned each decorated band through accomplishment. As a result, it was the elders that often sported the more impressive body modifications. Snag claimed the young often used whatever shiny substitutions they could get their claws on to appear more impressive to outsiders.

    If anything, it only made them look silly, but Daana supposed that probably wasn¡¯t something worth pointing out.

    The young goblins gave Daana a courteous once-over. Ashwyn¡¯s visual inspection lasted a little longer on the account that there was more of her to take in, including the rather impressive array of weapons arranged on the ground around her. It was Snag who commanded the brunt of their attention. All three stared at him wide-eyed, unable to tear their gaze from him long enough to feign interest elsewhere.

    It was just as well that Snag was handling the negotiations. Daana didn¡¯t think the trio would¡¯ve been able to break from their mesmerization had they tried.

    Snag noticed this as well. He threw his hands in the air exasperation. ¡°Oi! Are you here to trade or gawk?¡±

    The bravest of the three edged closer, wringing his gnarled hands together. He spoke slowly, voice riddled with hesitance. If Daana¡¯s Laftak was to be trusted, he said something along the lines of ¡®are you him?¡¯

    Oh dear. This was the exact scenario they¡¯d hoped to avoid. The flatlands still had an active warrant for Sbaglebrag Flint¡¯s head. And while Snag had packed enough gold to ensure he could bribe his way out of a situation if necessary, he would be reluctant to part with it so soon.

    Daana added two scoops of dried oats to the pan of boiling water as she watched the scene unfold with bated breath. Snag kept his expression perfectly blank. Alas, his response was spoken far too quickly for her to catch anything of significance. The young goblins all replied at the same time, gesturing with their hands as they rocked back and forth on sinewy legs, speaking over one another.

    Snag attempted to quell their enthusiasm by switching back to the common tongue. ¡°Nah, nah, nah,¡± he said, waving his clawed hand dismissively. ¡°I know what bloke you¡¯re talking about. But he ain¡¯t me. Last I heard, that ol¡¯ traitor was still causing havoc down south in the territories.¡±

    ¡°Traitor?¡± The smallest of the three piped up. She was the most curious-looking of the bunch. She had more fashion statements strung through her ears than anyone else around her, including Snag. Amongst her unusual collection of faux-jewelry were fish hooks, a lure, and what looked to be several modified spoon heads.

    Spoon Ear placed her balled hands at her hips and marched up to Snag with the unearned confidence of a teenager. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about! How long have you been out of the lands, huh?¡±

    ¡°Judging by his accent, too long,¡± one of the others added. He was the tallest, hovering an inch or two above Snag, but looked thin enough to get snapped in half by a light breeze. Twig, Daana decided, was a befitting name until she learned otherwise.

    Snag¡¯s lower jaw trembled as he fought to keep the fury from his face. He was failing, of course, no matter the effort he was putting into it. ¡°Are you here to trade or not? You¡¯re wasting my time.¡±

    The third, yet unnamed goblin shared an eager, needle-toothed smile with the others, earning himself the nickname Smiley. ¡°He even speaks like a realm dog. The words flow right off his tongue all pretty-like.¡±

    ¡°Well if he¡¯s Snaglebrag¡± ¡ª Twig tilted his claw in Ashwyn¡¯s direction ¡ª ¡°that would make this one the protector, yeah?¡±

    Spoon Ear turned in Ashwyn¡¯s direction and bowed, dipping so low her jeweled ears swept across the trampled ground. ¡°Your Majesty.¡±

    Ashwyn was unable to contain her snort of laughter. ¡°No, mate. Far from it.¡±

    They obviously didn¡¯t believe her as, if on cue, the trio¡¯s attention shifted to Daana with the sort of wide-eyed reverence she¡¯d only ever experienced in fantasies. It was downright beautiful. Underserved, too, as the goblins had obviously mistaken her for the notorious elf huntress, Ellisar Farrow. Daana decided she wasn¡¯t going to waste her breath correcting the misconception ¡ª and no, not simply because she liked the attention.

    Denying the accusation would be too obvious. She would have to divert their attention through more creative means.

    Daana folded a handful of dried berries into the pan of simmering oats. ¡°You all look hungry. Care to join us for breakfast? I made extra.¡±

    ¡°Extra? What are you talking about extra?¡± Ashwyn glared at Daana¡¯s single pan of breakfast as if it¡¯d personally offended her.

    Thanks to Daana¡¯s culinary exploits, the crisp morning air was now laden with the warm smells of toasted oats and berries. A touch of cinnamon and honey would have elevated the meal beyond its simple means, but Daana had neither on her. There simply wasn¡¯t room for such extravagancies when it came to life on the road.

    Ashwyn folded her arms over her chest and scowled. ¡°I could eat that whole pan by myself.¡±

    So much for her brilliant plan to distract the goblins from uncovering Snag¡¯s identity. Daana swallowed the expletive that threatened to roll from her tongue and settled on a sugary-sweet reply instead. ¡°Could you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°The whole pan?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well you¡¯re not supposed to eat the pan, are you?¡±

    Having fallen silent during the exchange, the trio of young goblins burst into snorts of raspy laughter. Overcome with mirth, they switched back to their mother tongue and carried on a conversation of their own. Judging from the abundance of finger pointing and knee slapping, the three were deciding what inedible object the big dum-dum orc would try to eat next.

    Ashwyn clicked her tusks softly. Her unamused gaze settled over Daana with a weight that could be felt from across the fire. ¡®You may have saved our hides, but your ass is mine¡¯ the orc¡¯s dark eyes promised.

    Daana shuddered, certain she would feel the full brunt of Ashwyn¡¯s wrath during their next training session.

    It wasn¡¯t fair. She¡¯d only tried to help ¡ª and succeeded, by the way. The goblins¡¯ attention was no longer on whether or not Daana and her companions were wanted fugitives of the realm. And yes, admittedly, Daana¡¯s strategy had taken a cheap shot at the ¡®stupid orc¡¯ stereotype that Ashwyn despised with every bone in her body, but it¡¯d served a purpose! Thanks to Daana¡¯s swift thinking, she, Snag, and Ashwyn were no longer on the cusp of being turned over to a higher authority.

    Despite all the very good arguments weaving through Daana¡¯s thoughts, Ashwyn¡¯s stony expression suggested that she wouldn¡¯t care when it came time for payback. Perhaps the orc would feel differently if Daana could lower the trio¡¯s guard even more, possibly enough to get information. Surely even Ashwyn couldn¡¯t punish her for gathering intelligence.

    Daana removed the pan from the coals and set it onto the cooling stone. ¡°Who¡¯s hungry? Where I¡¯m from, guests eat first.¡±

    The goblins eyed her up and down suspiciously. It was Smiley who edged a hair closer, sniffing the air. ¡°Is that ¡®cause it¡¯s poisoned?¡±

    Daana¡¯s brow furrowed as she considered the best way to handle his slight. Attempting to correct the goblin wouldn¡¯t get anywhere. He was a teenager, after all, and taking flack from a stranger had never been any teenager¡¯s strong suit. Daana would know, she¡¯d been a teenager far longer than most people her age.

    Shrugging, she offered the pan to Ashwyn instead. ¡°Good news. I guess they¡¯re not hungry. More for you then.¡±

 201 - Once Upon A Time

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± All three goblins fought to talk over one another, excusing Smiley¡¯s poor manners as they watched, eyes fixed on the steaming pan of oats as if it was the single most important desire in the entire world.

    Daana could practically hear the gurgling of their empty bellies. With the three goblins fixated on breakfast, they failed to notice the faint look of approval stretched across Snag¡¯s weathered face. Unlike Daana, who definitely noticed, and both loved and hated it at the same time. On one hand, it was wonderful knowing that he trusted her to do this her way. On the other, the thought of failing in front of an audience was a blunder she would not live down so easily.

    Especially not with the way Ashwyn was still glaring at her for giving away half their breakfast.

    Daana filled their three wooden bowls and distributed them to her eager guests before ladling the rest into whatever containers she had on hand. It wasn¡¯t an extravagant meal by any means, but the goblins didn¡¯t appear to mind. They crouched beside one another, snapping up their food as quickly as possible while eyeing their neighbor¡¯s bowl in hopes of helping them finish.

    Snag eventually gave up standing guard and settled onto the ground with everyone else. He stirred his oats, feigning interest in the food as he pried the trio for information in the least obvious way possible.

    According to their guests, whatever disputes normally pitted one goblin den against another had simmered for the season. With fall turning swiftly into winter, the threat of the first harsh snowfall had everyone scrambling to stock their underground ladders.

    ¡°You should reach the eastern border without trouble. Especially with that one in your company.¡± Smiley indicated Ashwyn with a tilt of his jeweled head. ¡°No den¡¯s going to risk their best fighters trying to take on a behemoth when they¡¯ve got hungry mouths to feed.¡±

    Snag¡¯s ears flattened against the back of his head. ¡°Who said we were headed to the border?¡±

    ¡°All the riders come and go through there,¡± Smiley said. ¡°Everyone knows Adderwood is the easiest way to sneak in an¡¯ out of the realm. The border¡¯s wide with plenty of cover and not enough soldiers to police anything beyond the main road. Sneaking past is easy-peasy.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s ears perked. ¡°We¡¯re not the first riders you¡¯ve seen?¡±

    ¡°You kiddin¡¯? For months now, there¡¯s been entire¡ª¡± Smiley was cut short by a stiff elbow to the ribs from Spoon Ear. The pair exchanged heated glances before Smiley¡¯s shoulders sank in defeat. He stabbed at the last few bites of oat mush with his spoon, resigned to a sulking silence.

    Content her companion was not about to give away vital information for free, Spoon Ear took charge of the conversation. ¡°We came here to trade, yeah? Seems like you all want information, not firebrew. We¡¯ll be happy to supply it.¡±

    An eager grin split Twig¡¯s face from ear to ear. ¡°For the right price, of course.¡±

    Ashwyn stared at them for a disconcerting amount of time before shifting her weary gaze to Snag. ¡°What¡¯s goblin taste like? These fuckers had the gall to eat my breakfast and are now asking for more.¡±

    Snag made a limp, so-so gesture with his hand. ¡°Similar to wild rabbit, but stringier. Not good raw though. Too many parasites.¡±

    ¡°These three don¡¯t look old enough to be carrying parasites.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d still be better off boiling them alive. Might help if you filet the skin first.¡±

    Daana immediately recognized their game. It was a common one. Someone played the role of baddie while their counterpart worked their mark from the nice angle. With Snag and Ashwyn both filling the role of the calloused killer, it seemed the remaining position had been left for her. Just as well, she supposed. She had already proved to be generous once already.

    Wordlessly, Daana knelt beside the supply bag and pulled free a bundle of cheesecloth and crinkly paper. She removed four strips of the thin sliced meat and arranged them into neat lines within the pan. The goblins watched her every move as she navigated the cast iron back over the glowing embers. Their wariness soon gave way to hunger when the pork strips began to sizzle and pop, releasing the glorious smell of bacon into the air.

    ¡°This is something special I picked up for the journey. Very hard to come by out here. Very pricey when you do find it.¡± Daana used her wooden utensil to keep the bacon strips from touching, ensuring each was given enough room to crisp evenly. She had no doubt Snag would give her an earful for wasting his good vittles but, for the moment, all he could do was glare at her from afar.

    Daana¡¯s next words were going to make him even more mad. ¡°The first one to tell us about the recent travelers can have it all.¡±

    Their salivating mouths all snapped shut simultaneously. The three goblins no longer stared at the bacon, but each other. Silently sizing one another up, attempting to scare the others into keeping their silence.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s determination.¡± Ashwyn extended her empty tin cup in Daana¡¯s direction. ¡°Since they¡¯re not interested, I¡¯ll take one of those to temper my hunger, thank you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still floppy,¡± Daana said.

    ¡°It¡¯s bacon, not a cock. Give it here.¡±

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    Flipping a limp strip onto her spoon, Daana maneuvered it from the sizzling pan to Ashwyn¡¯s cup with a steadiness that surprised even herself. She noted the way the goblins¡¯ heads moved, following the path of the morsel from pan to cup. Ashwyn noticed too, and made a show of savoring every greasy bite. The fact that she refused to break eye contact with the trio while doing so was a choice Daana didn¡¯t fully understand but, nevertheless, knew not to question.

    When finished, Ashwyn jutted her empty cup in Daana¡¯s direction. ¡°More.¡±

    Smiley broke first. ¡°The riders are the elf witch¡¯s people. Lots of them, as of late. Just three weeks ago a party of forty strong slipped through the border into the realm.¡±

    Daana moved the cooked bacon onto a flat slab of rock to cool. ¡°Have any riders come back?¡±

    ¡°None so far.¡± Smiley fended off Twig¡¯s little fists as the other goblin attempted to pummel him back into silence. ¡°Maybe a single rider now and then, but it¡¯s usually only a messenger of some type.¡±

    Ashwyn prevented Daana from passing out the bacon with a lift of her hand. ¡°What about from the other side?¡± she asked. ¡°How many riders from the realm have you seen slinking through these parts?¡±

    ¡°Besides you three?¡± Smiley challenged.

    ¡°You¡¯re about to lose half your bacon, boyo.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright, alright.¡± Smiley stood, ignoring the angry chittering sounds from his companions. ¡°There were lots of realm soldiers mucking about at first, but the defeat in Adderwood sent them packing. Our den leader says their armies drew back into the interior territories.¡±

    Ashwyn drummed her fingertips against her leg. ¡°What defeat in Adderwood?¡±

    The young goblin appeared genuinely confused by her question. ¡°You seriously don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s playing you, idiot!¡± Spoon Ear hissed.

    ¡°If I already knew, I wouldn¡¯t be asking.¡± Ashwyn flashed her teeth at the little goblin, warning her against interrupting again. ¡°Now, don¡¯t make me repeat myself. It makes me hungry. What happened in Adderwood?¡±

    ¡°Nah-uh! You don¡¯t say another word.¡± Spoon Ear was not so easily intimidated. She smacked the back of Smiley¡¯s head as she shot to her feet and returned Ashwyn¡¯s heated stare. ¡°If you lot want to know so bad, then you¡¯re going to pay for it. With more than just a handful of scraps, I might add.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t any sense in pussyfooting around. It was time to make an offer they couldn¡¯t refuse. ¡°All of this for the information.¡± Daana held aloft the remaining wrapped rasher of bacon, ignoring Snag¡¯s muffled whimper. ¡°No more, no less. You answer all our questions¨C¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t tell anybody where you got it, either. Or I will make it my personal life mission to hunt the three of you down and strip the flesh from your bones with my teeth,¡± Ashwyn finished.

    Smiley and Twig both watched Spoon Ear for her answer. The little goblin gave her nod of approval. With the matter settled, she extended her hand in Daana¡¯s direction, demanding what was owed.

    Daana narrowed her eyes. ¡°Information first.¡±

    Spoon Ear rolled her eyes and gestured for the other two to fill in the gaps.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t know?¡± Smiley had to ask once more, just for clarification. Ashwyn¡¯s unamused expression was the only answer he received. ¡°Adderwood rebelled. They chased the realm out and declared their independence.¡±

    Twig spoke up next, having switched his wide-eyed gaze from Spoon Ear to Ashwyn. ¡°Word is they¡¯ve got the turncoat on their side.¡±

    ¡°The who?¡± Ashwyn said.

    He waggled his eyebrows in a manner that suggested he knew that she wasn¡¯t being forthright about her identity. ¡°The protector.¡±

    ¡°For the last time, I¡¯m not the protector.¡±

    Twig twirled his spoon in one hand, shrugging. ¡°You look like her.¡±

    ¡°I can assure you, she would never stoop to eating a goblin just because it annoyed her.¡±

    Twig¡¯s face paled as he dropped his gaze back down. Smiley jumped back in, proving once more to be a wealth of information, ¡°The elders say the upheaval has got the realm figureheads nervous. It¡¯s the first time one of the territories has successfully broken away and it¡¯s only a matter of time before some of the others try to do the same.¡±

    ¡°What about the protector?¡± Ashwyn said. ¡°Is she still in Adderwood?¡±

    Smiley¡¯s expression said, ¡®pretty sure she¡¯s sitting right here¡¯. His mouth, however, offered a more diplomatic, ¡°Your guess is as good as ours.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s valiant attempt to wrangle additional information out of the trio proved otherwise fruitless. They had nothing else to offer. Finally, with their bargaining commenced, the trio gathered their rasher of bacon and turned to leave. Spoon Ear glanced back over her shoulder one last time. Her yellow eyes were wide and rimmed in white, offering a look that was almost sorrowful in nature. She uttered something in Laftak before slipping away, lost to sight amongst the tall sea of swaying grass.

    Snag¡¯s stony expression soured.

    Ashwyn rose, adjusting her belt as she did so. For the sake of not scaring off their company, she had remained seated throughout the exchange. She set about rolling up her bedding in the most violent way possible. ¡°How many more times are we going to have to do that? Talk about a waste of time.¡± She glanced sharply out of the corner of her eye at Daana, adding, ¡°And bacon.¡±

    ¡°We still have all of our stuff and no one is trying to prevent us from reaching our destination,¡± Daana replied. ¡°I consider that a win.¡±

    Ashwyn turned to Snag for support. ¡°You¡¯re not going to back me up here? It was your bacon she gave away.¡±

    Snag didn¡¯t appear to have heard.

    Daana waved her hand in front of his face. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He recoiled, his earrings jingling, as if he¡¯s been snapped from a trance unexpectedly. ¡°Yeah, sure. Whatever.¡±

    Daana resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his incredibly convincing statement. ¡°Something bothering you? What did the little one say just before she left?¡±

    Snag played with the ring strung through his lip, one of the unconscious signs that he was deep in thought. ¡°She claims the bounty put on Snaglebrag¡¯s head was lifted some time ago. The powers that be issued a full pardon. The old toad is considering something of a hero now for helping dismantle the realm an¡¯ all that.¡±

    Daana suspected there was more he wasn¡¯t volunteering. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s been welcomed back home.¡±

    Ashwyn finished rolling her bed roll into a more manageable size. ¡°Sounds like a stroke of luck to me.¡±

    Daana couldn¡¯t get a full read on Snag¡¯s face and how he was taking this newfound information. ¡°Is that something he wants? To return home?¡±

    ¡°Once upon a time, maybe. But now,¡± his thin voice trailed, as if he was unsure what words were supposed to follow. ¡°He¡¯s not so sure what home is. That word lost all meaning decades ago.¡±

 202 - A Sentient Bag Of Flesh And Bone

    Everything was wet. The crumbling stairway, the spongy walls, the very dingy air itself. The dampness was inescapable. It saturated Rasp¡¯s clothes until his swampy garments clung to him like a second, irritating skin. Alas, there wasn¡¯t time to stop and peel the fabric from his body. The group was still moving steadily downwards, following the ancient stairway into the underground city below, and nobody wanted to stop and watch him strip.

    At least that¡¯s what Faris said, who complained each time Rasp held up the procession to unstick his shirt from his gaunt stomach. Stupid Faris. It wasn¡¯t like the faun would see anything. It was pitch black all around. The rest of the group was suddenly just as blind as Rasp was, except for June, of course. But she wouldn¡¯t have cared much about the nudity. She was probably thinking the same thing as Rasp. Only she had it worse. Instead of damp, itchy clothes, she had an entire shaggy hide of dense bear fur to contend with. She couldn¡¯t exactly peel it off in a moment of frustration, either.

    The only one equipped with night vision, June led the procession in her bear form with Rasp at her side, clinging to the scruff of her neck for all he was worth. Father took up his customary perch on Rasp¡¯s shoulder and had the audacity to doze off. The raven would awaken each time Rasp slipped, scold him for doing so, and then drift back to sleep as they weren¡¯t stumbling headfirst into an underground grave. Rasp was envious. What he would give to ride piggyback on someone else right now.

    He would have asked June to carry him, but she was a bit preoccupied with keeping them alive at the moment. Rasp figured of the two, that might have been the more important task. June took her sweet time testing the integrity of each step before committing her full weight to it. And then she would do the same with the next, and the next, and the next, until Rasp had lost track altogether. He didn¡¯t mind the slow pace. Of all the many things to bellyache over, making sure they didn¡¯t fall to their deaths certainly wasn¡¯t one of them.

    They were a half an hour into the descent when their circumstances took a drastic turn for the better. The impenetrable darkness receded and a ghoulish blue glow gradually filled Rasp¡¯s poor vision.

    Huh, he thought, craning his head from side to side as he took in the full scope of the strange glow. The hallucinations set in faster than expected.

    ¡°Anyone else tripping right now?¡± he asked, just to be sure.

    ¡°I see it too.¡± Faris sounded equally as confused. ¡°It¡¯s breathtaking. Like blue and green stars caught in the ceiling.¡±

    ¡°I think the word you¡¯re looking for is creepy, Dingle.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s bioluminescent algae,¡± Hop explained. Due to the moist environment, the algae thrived. It was sprawled across the domed ceiling and walls, illuminating the stairwell below in an eerie glow. Creepiness aside, the algae did eliminate the need for torches ¡ª which was just as well because, according to their know-it-all artificer, the algae also emitted highly flammable gas. A single flame would be enough to set off a fire ball of epic, albeit lethal, proportions.

    No fire was reiterated to Rasp several times.

    ¡°Yes, I get it,¡± Rasp groaned after the fourth such reiteration. It was starting to feel personal now. Of course he wouldn¡¯t set them on fire. He had nothing to set them on fire with. There was not a single ounce of magic left in his weary body. He was little more than a sentient bag of flesh and bone, wrapped in skin to keep his gooey bits from oozing out all over the place.

    The bioluminescent glow rendered the dark stairway significantly less dark. With their path now visible, the order of the party changed. Faris assumed the lead, with June behind him and Rasp and Hop situated at the end.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be much further now,¡± Hop said, giving Rasp¡¯s elbow a reassuring squeeze.

    ¡°How do you know?¡± Rasp tugged the bandana firmly back over his nose. All the talk about algae and gas made him glad he¡¯d thought to cover his mouth. He didn¡¯t appreciate how the sheen of sweat running down his face kept causing the bandana to slip, but constantly readjusting it was a price he was willing to pay when the alternative involved inhaling toxic algae excretion.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Know what?¡±

    Oh dear. Hop was already losing himself to delirium. Rasp couldn¡¯t have that. If anyone was going to go mad, it was him. He¡¯s earned it, after all. ¡°That it won¡¯t be much further. Can you see the city below?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I meant my legs. They¡¯re not making it much further.¡±

    Somehow that was worse. ¡°It¡¯s alright. If it comes to that I¡¯ll just ride you down the steps like a toboggan.¡±

    ¡°That sounds painful.¡±

    ¡°It certainly will be. For you, anyway. I¡¯m looking forward to it, personally.¡± Hop was fortunate to have a friend like Rasp. Despite the faun¡¯s wearisome protests, Rasp¡¯s cheery conversation kept Hop¡¯s spirits high enough to keep going. And yet, each word came at a steep cost to Rasp. Sleep pulled at him, weighing heavy in the back of his skull like a low hanging cloud. Every step felt like it would be his last. He persisted, however, knowing if he gave in, it would be he who went down the slippery steps as a toboggan.

    What remained of his pride refused to let that happen.

    ¡°Be careful on these last few steps,¡± Faris¡¯s hushed voice warned from somewhere below. ¡°They¡¯re caked in mud and are as slippery as muck.¡±

    The aftermath of years of flooding, Rasp¡¯s brain volunteered. He didn¡¯t pay much attention to it. The part he chose to fixate on was Faris¡¯s use of ¡®last few¡¯, which indicated that, at long last, they¡¯d reached the bottom.

    Hop navigated the slippery steps alongside him, their arms locked together in a manner that assured Rasp that if he were to fall, Hop would most certainly be dragged down with him. The faun took a deep, shaky breath the moment they reached the final step and moved out across flatter ground. The wet floor squished and squelched underfoot with a texture a little too spongy to be mud.

    The smell was equally as revolting, like the lovechild of putrid flesh and sulfur. The stench infiltrated Rasp¡¯s protective bandana, coating the inside of his mouth with the sour sting of stomach acid. It was a taste Rasp was familiar with, thanks to the years he¡¯d spent drunk off his ass. The acidity pooling under his tongue usually meant he was in for a night of projectile vomiting. He swallowed the bile back down, knowing it would be a waste of effort. There wasn¡¯t anything left in his empty gut to spew.

    Hop led him through the last bit of cramped stairwell and into whatever space existed beyond the exit. Rasp felt a shift in the air as the chamber opened up around them. It was still oppressively damp, but the suffocating sense of confinement disappeared. Rasp craned his head upwards and squinted, realizing the soft eerie glow of the algae was significantly higher than it had been in the stairwell. The bioluminescence wasn¡¯t restricted to the ceiling, either. Rasp could see a whole cluster of blurry, illuminated shapes as the party delved deeper into what remained of the underground city.

    ¡°Are these homes?¡± Rasp asked, gesturing to the nearest glowing structure.

    ¡°Former businesses, probably,¡± Hop replied. ¡°The streets are too wide for residences. Hard to know for sure, though. Everything but the stone has rotted away.¡±

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll find an inn.¡± Rasp meant it as a joke. Still, like most jokes, it held a small granule of truth. While he didn¡¯t expect to find a fully furnished inn amongst the ruins, he wouldn¡¯t turn down a nice dry spot to curl up in while his body recovered from three days on the run with no sleep.

    ¡°It¡¯s absolutely fascinating, really,¡± Hop carried on, fueled by the passion of discovery. ¡°By destroying one habitat, the flooding inadvertently created a whole new eco¨C¡±

    ¡°Hop, I love it when you get this excited, really. But help me find somewhere to collapse first,¡± Rasp pleaded. ¡°You can tell me all about the glow in the dark bugs while I¡¯m drifting off to sleep.¡±

    ¡°No sense of wonder,¡± Hop muttered under his breath, adding, ¡°Also, for the record, they¡¯re not bugs.¡±

    Rasp patted his arm lovingly. ¡°Yes, yes, save it for bedtime.¡±

    Rasp and Hop moved slowly through the waterlogged streets. They would stop along any promising prospects, allowing for June and Faris to scout the inside in search of somewhere suitable to bunker down for the night, or day, or whatever fucking time it was. They traveled along the outskirts of the glowing city, scouring a multitude of dilapidated buildings as they went, until Faris finally settled on something passable.

    Rasp questioned nothing. In fact, he didn¡¯t even possess the willpower to complain when Hop tugged him up one final flight of stone steps. The room could¡¯ve been a torture chamber for all he cared. What mattered was that the floor was reasonably dry and the room had the benefit of having four stable walls still standing. A miracle, really.

    Rasp let the others decide who would take first watch as he unraveled his bedroll and collapsed onto it. He fell asleep the moment his head touched the blankets. And then, for hours, he laid motionless, all but dead to the world. Like the others around him, Rasp slept deep, pleasantly unaware of the soft scuttling sounds coming from the main floor below.

 203 - Intruders

    Rasp awoke to horrific squawking. Or maybe he¡¯d dreamed it. Perhaps he was still dreaming. Real, dream, hallucination, whatever it was, it didn¡¯t matter. His body demanded more sleep and was willing to ignore whatever in chaos was going on around him to get it. Rasp¡¯s heavy eyelids closed the same moment a feathered monster descended over him, beating the back of his head with its wings as it screeched and roared. It demanded he rise and deal with the intruders.

    Intruders?

    The word stirred Rasp from his sleep in the same way a toothpick might disturb a giant vat of cold molasses which, suffice to say, was not much at all.

    Intruders. His confused thoughts clung to the word as his mind slipped back under. It was an important word, he knew that. It meant something¡­something¡­fuck it. He was too tired to remember.

    The feathery beast stabbed at his head, drawing blood.

    ¡°Bad!¡± Rasp shot upright, clutching the wet spot behind his ear. ¡°It meams something bad!¡±

    Faris was curled on the ground beside him. The faun stirred, still groggy with sleep. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Intruders!¡± The rest of Father¡¯s warning tumbled free of Rasp¡¯s mouth as he shook Faris awake. ¡°Get up! Dad says we¡¯re not safe.¡±

    Faint blue-green light filtered in from what might have been a window across from them. The only other light available was the random spattering of bioluminescent algae that coated the interior walls of the room. Regrettably, neither were bright enough to help Rasp pick out any discernible shapes amongst the gloom.

    ¡°Anyone got a match?¡±

    ¡°No fire,¡± Hop said from further down.

    ¡°Alright, Mister Artificer,¡± Rasp snapped, stifling the embarrassment of having forgotten Hop¡¯s number one rule already. ¡°A little light please?¡±

    A split second later, the brilliant blue from Hop¡¯s headlamp cut through the surrounding gloom. Rasp jumped, not at the sudden light, but the myriad of stout, dark shapes that lined the far side of the room.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± June hissed between her teeth.

    Rasp waited, nearly three seconds in full, before having to ask the obvious. ¡°Someone want to tell me what we¡¯re looking at?¡±

    ¡°Dwarfs, I think,¡± Faris said.

    ¡°What do you mean you think? Are they dwarfs or not?¡± A thought occurred to him that Rasp didn¡¯t necessarily cherish saying out loud, but did so anyway. ¡°They¡¯re not ghost dwarfs, are they?¡±

    ¡°Very much alive. Just a little different in appearance than what I¡¯m used to.¡± Faris added, a little louder, for the benefit of the ghost dwarfs, probably, ¡°But very friendly and nice, I¡¯m sure. They probably don¡¯t mean us any harm and just want payment for crossing into their land, yeah?¡±

    A gravelly voice responded in an unfamiliar language. It rose in volume, growing more fast and fervent by the second. The speaker carried on with gusto, her intensity building, building, building, until the oration finished with a dramatic flourish. A multitude of voices echoed the speaker¡¯s final words in perfect unison.

    The whole thing reminded Rasp of his cousin twice removed, who¡¯d turned into something of a zealot towards the end of his life. The man had a similar manner of speech and could whip an entire crowd into a blind frenzy relying simply on the power of words and superstition. Why Rasp¡¯s mind felt the need to recall Cousin Vernon was not a simple misfiring of internal synapses, but to help him identify the reason he suddenly wanted to scrub his skin with a copper scouring pad.

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    ¡°Great,¡± Rasp muttered with a shudder. ¡°We found an underground cult. Just what we needed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d argue that the cult found us,¡± June whispered back.

    One of the dwarfs stepped forward, distinguished himself from the crowd. He was courteous enough to address them in the common tongue. ¡°Our ancestors have long foretold the arrival of the Kriegaar. The priestess welcomes you, great warriors, to the world below.¡±

    No one dared correct him. A shame, really, as it left the honor to Rasp. ¡°I think you might have us confused with someone else.¡±

    ¡°No mistake has been made,¡± the dwarf assured him. ¡°Priestess Oreword senses the Kriegaar amongst you.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡± June said.

    There were some hushed mutterings between the translator and the priestess before a suitable answer was proffered. ¡°The Kriegaar is the savior of our people. The legend has been passed down from generation to generation since the time of the great flood, telling of a warrior destined to best the great beast in battle and free our city from its reign of terror.¡±

    Great, more prophecies. And not just the typical ¡®chosen one¡¯ bullshit, but a prophecy that involved monsters and underground cults, too! Just what they needed. Rasp shot his hand over his head and waved it about, as if he were an impatient student eager to be called upon by the class instructor. ¡°And what if the great warrior refuses?¡±

    ¡°They will not,¡± the spokesperson said with the unwavering confidence of one who had grown up in a cult and, thus, never learned to question anything.

    ¡°What if they do?¡±

    Irritation bubbled over the spokesperson¡¯s previously confident tone. ¡°You are not the great warrior. You wouldn¡¯t know.¡±

    Ouch. Not that Rasp wanted to be, but still, it wasn¡¯t fair to just count him out like that. Ignoring the way Faris was using his elbow to dig deep into his ribs, Rasp kept poking the proverbial bear simply for the hell of it. ¡°What if I am?¡±

    ¡°Then that is for our priestess to decide. Be still while she assesses you.¡±

    Another shape shuffled forward, lit by the ominous glow of Hop¡¯s blue headlamp. Rasp squinted at Priestess Oreword¡¯s shape, trying and failing to determine whether the dwarf walked with a hunch or was naturally hump shaped. The priestess started at the far end, chanting under her breath as she passed over Hop, and then June, Faris next, and then stopped over Rasp. She pressed so close he could practically taste the crushed rose petal incense and tobacco smoke wafting from her musty clothes.

    The chanting ended as a pair of leathery, wrinkled hands seized him by the head and explored his face. Rasp tried to pull away but the priestess was terrifyingly strong and held him in place with ease. The rough face fondling lasted a few uncomfortable seconds more before Priestess Oreword released him, tsking her disapproval.

    ¡°Told you I wasn¡¯t him,¡± Rasp grumbled.

    The priestess shoved him aside and, from the sounds of it, was in the process of searching his bedding for the missing warrior. She let out an exalted cry and the crowd of cult members lining the wall echoed her words in unison.

    ¡°Faris?¡± Rasp was unable to make out what the priestess held aloft for the rest of the clan to see. ¡°A little help?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s got your pack.¡±

    He didn¡¯t mean to, but a harsh bark of laughter escaped his mouth all the same. ¡°Is their salvation my dirty underwear? There¡¯s nothing in the pack except¡­¡±

    Oh fuck.

    ¡°I assume from your stunned silence that you¡¯ve finally caught on,¡± Faris said.

    ¡°Gods dammit! Why couldn¡¯t the dwarfs have been ghosts?¡±

    ¡°I would argue that these people are ghosts,¡± Hop ventured, from further down. ¡°I suspect, given their clothing, they are the remnants of what was once Kalikose. It¡¯s like we¡¯ve traveled back in time.¡±

    Rasp crossed his arms, issuing an irritated sigh. ¡°Why do you sound so excited about it?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m just relieved it¡¯s not a monster.¡±

    ¡°Did you miss the part where they said the Kriegaar was supposed to defeat a beast?¡± June demanded.

    ¡°Oh, that. Right.¡± The relief drained from Hop¡¯s voice like liquid from a burst wineskin. ¡°I think my self-preservation may have glossed over that tidbit, actually.¡±

    June¡¯s voice dropped, not so much a whisper as it was a growl. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you guys, but my self-preservation is telling me it¡¯s time to make a run for it.¡±

 204 - Closed Doors Lead To Open Windows

    ¡°Will someone please listen?¡± Hop¡¯s hoof slammed against the stone floor with a resounding crack. The noise spurred a wave of hushed murmurs amongst the surrounding voices, but did nothing to earn an engaged audience. Hop spoke with the telltale waver of someone who really didn¡¯t want to do the talking. Alas, as no one else in his group was volunteering, it was either talk or fight, and Hop would do just about anything to avoid the latter. ¡°There¡¯s been a mistake. We are not who you think we are. We didn¡¯t mean to trespass. If you would just return our pack, we¡¯ll go back the way we came.¡±

    The dwarf spokesperson, having previously identified himself as Bromm, communicated this to the others. Evidently it wasn¡¯t what the mob wanted to hear. Their voices raised in volume, until the entire room was one loud, buzzing din.

    Danger hung in the air. Tempers on both sides flared as the tension steadily built within the cramped room until it was thick enough to choke on. And yet, even with danger looming over their heads, poised to strike down the moment someone ventured a step too far, Faris still could not help but point out the painfully obvious. ¡°This isn¡¯t working.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying my best,¡± Hop said. ¡°Feel free to jump in any time now.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re doing your best. It¡¯s not you I¡¯m frustrated with.¡± The white faun¡¯s blurry shape paced back and forth as he spoke. ¡°How many more times do we have to repeat ¡®we¡¯re not here to save your asses¡¯ before someone finally gets it!¡±

    Rasp was the only one still sitting. Hop and Faris¡¯s respective shapes were closest to him, huddled together, attempting to plot their way to freedom without having to rely on violence. It was going as well as expected. Squinting, Rasp was fairly certain he could make out June¡¯s lithe silhouette further down. For the moment, she remained in human form, which was good. There was a chance the cult didn¡¯t yet know they had a shapeshifter on their hands. It could play to their advantage if things went downhill.

    Rasp snapped back into the conversation when he heard Faris shout, ¡°Just give us our pack and we¡¯ll go!¡±

    Spokesperson Bromm and Priestess Oreword held a heated exchange before the former¡¯s voice boomed back across the room with such force it rattled the rafters overhead. ¡°If you wish to go, then so be it. But the Kriegaar stays.¡±

    Of the many, many things Whisper hated, being kept as property ranked at the very tippy top of the list. Having escaped enslavement once before, Rasp knew his mentor would rather die than serve another master so long as they lived. Better yet, Whisper would prefer others to die. Which failed to explain why the fae hadn¡¯t yet burst from the pack and laid waste to their cult captors.

    Hop and Faris¡¯s voices muddled together as Rasp bowed his head and drew within himself. The few hours of sleep had done his body good. After minimal prodding, his sixth sense flickered to life and swept the room in search of magical auras. It passed over Hop and June¡¯s familiar energy signatures, drawn like a moth to flame to an aura Rasp had not seen before. The magic burned brighter than anyone else¡¯s in the room. Ripples of silver lifted from squat shape and dispersed into the darkness beyond.

    Priestess Oreword, he realized, drawing in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. While it was impossible to determine the extent of her abilities from his sixth sense alone, the sheer magnitude of power wafting from her aura was enough to convince Rasp that it wasn¡¯t necessary to find out. There wasn¡¯t any reason to fight. After all, as Hop insisted, they could solve their differences peacefully. So long as peacefully involved snatching the pack and sprinting their way back to the surface as quickly as possible.

    Rasp moved on from the priestess in search of his mentor¡¯s telltale blue glow. His heart sank when he found it. Whisper¡¯s energy burned low, flickering in out like the last stubborn nub of candlewick. No wonder Whisper hadn¡¯t interfered. They were barely alive. It would not be long, Rasp feared, before the fae had nothing left to burn.

    Rasp blinked his aura vision away and stood. His head protested the sudden shift and sent a wave of dizziness that nearly dropped his ass back onto the ground. Someone caught him, fortunately. What was even more fortunate was the fact that it was the same someone to whom he wished to speak.

    ¡°Faris.¡± Rasp kept his voice purposely low. Only the Bromm appeared versed in the common tongue. With all the hubbub going on around them, the dwarf was unlikely to overhear. ¡°What are our chances of making a run for it?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re trapped on the third story, Rasp,¡± Faris hissed back. ¡°They¡¯ve got us surrounded. How are we going to manage that if we can¡¯t even get to the door?¡±

    Rasp flexed his fingers, taking stock of his reserves. His magic had returned. Not completely, of course, but Rasp was certain he had enough stamina to attempt something stupid. He tilted his head at the faint blue-green glow coming from what he assumed was the outside. He¡¯d mistaken for a window, initially. But along with the return of his faculties came the realization that the opening was far too big to be a mere window. ¡°Am I wrong in thinking that¡¯s a balcony?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°Is it open?¡±

    ¡°What does that have to do with anything? So what if it is? Are we proposing we jump?¡± There was a thoughtful pause before Faris realized this was indeed what Rasp was proposing. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°Remember the time I flew you over the forest? I got us safely back to the ground all in one piece then, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Barely! And that was just me. There are two others you¡¯d have to carry, all at once, not to mention the fact that we don¡¯t have Whisper.¡±

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    All good points. Rasp, naturally, ignored the bulk of them. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re going to steal Whisper back, Dingle. And then we¡¯ll jump.¡±

    ¡°Not happening.¡±

    ¡°Think about it. The dwarfs have got us surrounded. They know they have the advantage. Even if you grab the pack, they¡¯re not expecting you to go anywhere with it. Only an idiot would jump out the window.¡±

    ¡°I want you to think about what you just said.¡±

    ¡°Steal the pack, Faris.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Faris blew a breath of hot air out his nostrils. ¡°You do it.¡±

    It took all of Rasp¡¯s control not to throw his hands out at his sides in exasperation. Not making a scene, as it turned out, was extremely difficult to do when your supposed best friend refused to listen to reason. ¡°I think it¡¯s pretty fucking obvious why I¡¯m not the right person for the job.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯ll be too busy jumping out a window?¡± Faris replied.

    Fuck it. This wasn¡¯t getting anywhere. If you wanted something done, you had to outsource it to someone who asked as few questions as possible. ¡°June?¡± Rasp whipped his head in his sister¡¯s direction. ¡°Grab my bag.¡±

    ¡°On it!¡±

    ¡°June, no!¡± Faris shouted after her.

    By then it was too late, of course. The human¡¯s sinewy form had already bounded across the room and seized her prize from Priestess Oreword. ¡°Got it! Now what?¡±

    ¡°Grab onto Hop.¡± Rasp linked arms with both fauns, one on either side of him. He barreled forward, dragging them with him. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Hop¡¯s attempt to struggle free was pathetic at best. He seemed to realize that whatever Rasp was planning, they were doing regardless of his feelings on the matter. ¡°What¡¯s going on? What are we doing?¡±

    Rasp raced for the balcony. He pulled them through the rotted doorway and onto the ledge of stone jutting out over the exterior of the building. ¡°We¡¯re jumping!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no wind underground!¡± Faris screamed.

    Rasp¡¯s legs curled beneath him as his feet pushed off into the air, propelling them up and over what remained of the railing. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You use wind to fly, idiot! There¡¯s no wind underground!¡±

    Oh.

    Shit.

    The gravely screech of shifting stone rumbled from the streetway below. The group¡¯s sudden plummet was impeded by the mound of rubble that rose up to catch them halfway. Pain shot up Rasp¡¯s legs as his feet struck the slippery stone. He yelped, lost his balance, and fell, pulling everyone else with him as he tumbled helplessly down the rocky outcrop.

    Faris recovered first. He yanked Rasp to his feet, snapping, ¡°Thank you for not letting us die, but could you have picked something a little less painful?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s eyes darting back and forth across the dimly lit gloom, legs trembling. ¡°That wasn¡¯t me.¡±

    Faris pulled him into an awkward run. From the fast, squelching footsteps paces ahead, Rasp assumed Hop and June had taken the lead. Admittedly, it was difficult to tell now that Hop¡¯s headlamp had gone out. Probably for the best though, considering they wanted to make it as difficult to follow them as possible.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t you?¡± Faris repeated. ¡°What was your plan then?¡±

    Attempting to talk in the middle of a full sprint after having tumbled down a mountain of rubble was not doing Rasp¡¯s fraying temper any favors. His blood boiled as hot as the scuffed skin on nose. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I froze, okay?¡±

    ¡°You were just going to let us die?¡±

    ¡°Can you two do this later?¡± Hop called over his shoulder. ¡°They¡¯re going to be on us any second now. Yelling is only going to give our position away.¡±

    Apparently Faris was only willing to listen to reason when it came from someone else. The faun shut his infernal gob and focused on not running Rasp face-first into a wall. The ancient buildings passed by in a nauseating blur of pulsing lights and shadows. It was having a strobe effect on Rasp¡¯s poor vision, rendering him even more confused than he already was. He clung to Faris¡¯s elbow, knowing if they got separated he would never find his way out on his own.

    They were rounding what felt like the umpteenth corner when something struck out at Rasp and wrapped around his ankle. It cinched tighter, drawing blood as it yanked his feet out from under him. Rasp slammed onto his stomach with a wet splatter. The snare around his ankle tightened, snaking further up his legs as it did so, anchoring itself into his skin with what felt like barbed teeth. It started to pull, dragging him backwards through the slime-coated muck.

    The tried and true Stoneclaw instinct to fight to the death kicked in at last. Rasp flipped over, snapping the dagger strapped to his side and started hacking away at the thorny vine entangled around his ankle. He felt the tendril writhe as it switched its hold to avoid the cold steel. Rasp kept cutting, ignoring the wet splatter that marked his face and clothes as he reduced it to pieces. With one final hacking cut, he severed the vine¡¯s hold and kicked it away in disgust.

    Blood and plant matter oozed down his battered leg as Rasp staggered to his feet. He could hear screaming all around, the voices of his friends echoed off the stone structure, calling from all sides. The mix of sound, strobing lights, and adrenaline clouded his head. Rasp stumbled blindly forward, unable to pinpoint the location of others.

    Confused, Rasp didn¡¯t register the approaching hooves until he was already caught in Faris¡¯s grasp, being dragged in the opposite direction at a speed born of pure desperation. ¡°This way!¡± Faris said.

    Rasp gritted his teeth as bolts of pain lanced up his injured leg. He persisted, slamming his heels against the soft ground in order to keep pace. The sounds of the scuffle grew fainter behind them. ¡°What was the fuck was that?¡±

    ¡°Vines, I think? But they were alive?¡± Faris sounded as though he didn¡¯t believe what he¡¯d seen with his own eyes.

    ¡°Where are the others?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t get them out in time.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re just leaving them?¡± The guttural roar of a bear rang out in the distance. Rasp tried to pull free from Faris¡¯s iron grasp. ¡°Faris, this isn¡¯t right. We can¡¯t just leave them. We have to go back.¡±

    ¡°The dwarfs were already cutting them loose when I grabbed you. They won¡¯t harm them, not while we have the pack.¡±

    Shit. Shit. Shit.

    ¡°Whisper, if you could fucking wake up right now, it would be really helpful!¡± Rasp didn¡¯t expect an answer, so it wasn¡¯t really much of a surprise when he didn¡¯t receive one.

    ¡°The pack¡¯s our only bargaining chip,¡± Faris carried one. He was obviously talking out loud as a means to calm his own nerves because it wasn¡¯t like Rasp had anything helpful to contribute. ¡°If they catch us, then we have nothing. We have to stay ahead of them. Hole up somewhere safe and then¡ª¡±

    The last of Faris¡¯s words turned into a scream as his arm jerked free from Rasp¡¯s grasp.

 205 - Home At Last

    Rasp spun around and grabbed blindly for Faris. His fingers caught only air. Shit, shit, shit!

    ¡°Faris!¡±

    ¡°On the ground, Dinglehead!¡±

    Faris continued to scream obscenities at the top of his lungs, both at Rasp and the carnivorous vines attempting to render him into a meal. Rasp followed the sounds of the struggle but with so many algae-encrusted buildings clustered together so close, the damn echo was throwing him off. He¡¯d get a few steps only to realize Faris¡¯s voice was coming from somewhere else. Panicked, Rasp would then run the other way, lose his sense of direction, stop, and try it all over again.

    ¡°What are you doing? I¡¯m over here!¡±

    ¡°You say that like I can see you!¡± Rasp¡¯s own frantic words sparked the start of an idea.

    He couldn¡¯t see worth shit, granted, but a light source would help. Sunlight was obviously out of the question, as was fire, for entirely different reasons. The only form of light available underground was the dull, bioluminescent glow of the surrounding algae. That was nature, right? Whisper claimed Rasp could manipulate all forms of nature and surely even slippery-slimy algae counted!

    Rasp closed his eyes and reached out with his magic, willing the algae to respond. Normally his fingertips burned when channeling an element. Unfortunately, as nothing about his present situation qualified as normal, this applied to whatever in chaos was going on with his tactile sensitivity as well. His skin went cold, suddenly wet and slick with a texture that was a little too close to snot for comfort. Had he not known any better, Rasp would have sworn he¡¯d just shoved his arm elbow-deep up the wrong end of a¡ª

    Focus, idiot! His racing thoughts chimed in. Magic now, needlessly graphic analogies later!

    Ignoring the sudden urge to wipe his palms furiously against the fabric of his trousers, Rasp harnessed the surrounding glow and condensed it into a single ball of pulsing light between his hands.

    The glow cooled against his slick palms as Rasp channeled everything he had into generating his own light source. A split second later, when the magic had grown frigid enough to singe his skin, Rasp released the ball of light into the air. It erupted overhead in an ethereal mist of glowing green and blue particles.

    It wasn¡¯t much, certainly not as bright as a fire ball would have been, but it provided just enough light for Rasp to pinpoint Faris¡¯s struggling form amongst the gloom.

    He surged forward, blade in hand. To Rasp¡¯s surprise, the lingering cloud of glowing particles followed, as if tethered to him via an invisible lead. He didn¡¯t question the logistics of it. It was a stroke of luck and he would take whatever boon fate threw his way. Guided by the faint, bioluminescent glow, Rasp leapt over Faris and hacked at the vines coiled around the faun¡¯s lower legs. Wet, frothy sap drenched his skin and clothes as he worked, intermixing with the hot sweat dripping from his brow. He got a mouthful of sour plant splatter in the process, too. It burned as it slowly oozed down the back of his tongue.

    Rasp spat the foul taste from his mouth, certain he could already feel his tongue going limp.

    Venom, great. At least that explained why his leg was swollen and felt like it was being actively ripped apart by fire ants.

    The cloud of light sank lower as its luminescent particles lost their spark and started to fade. Rasp¡¯s steel blade shimmered in the ghoulish glow as he sliced away the final pieces of vine clinging to Faris¡¯s leg. At last, Rasp severed its hold and kicked it away. He watched, mouth agape in horror, as the blurry vines slithered off in retreat, leaving a trail of white, glistening froth in their wake.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Faris¡¯s voice was weak and raspy. He took a desperate gulp of air before concluding his heartfelt sentiments. ¡°For not setting me on fire.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me any bright ideas, Dingle. Now come on, up, up, up. I¡¯m pretty sure the cloud of light might have just given our position away.¡± Rasp reached down and heaved Faris to his feet. The faun teetered for a moment, attempted a single step, and then crumpled beneath his own weight.

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    ¡°Shhhhhit,¡± the faun said.

    Rasp frantically pulled at Faris¡¯s slack arm. ¡°Get up! What are you doing?¡±

    Faris¡¯s words were slow and slurred. ¡°I don¡¯t feel so good.¡±

    A warning croak rang out above them as Father neared. As much as Rasp wanted to demand where the fuck the old man had been this whole time, heeding Father¡¯s message took priority. For now, anyway. ¡°We have to go, come on. Get up. Dad says the cult is right around the corner.¡±

    ¡°Take the pack and go.¡± With the last of his strength, Faris shoved the pack into Rasp¡¯s arms in a move that sent the latter sprawling backwards.

    Rasp¡¯s quick footing spared himself from landing on his ass. ¡°Are you fucking crazy? I just spent all my magic saving your worthless hide. I¡¯m not leaving you!¡±

    ¡°The dwarfs won¡¯t kill me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m about to kill you if you don¡¯t get up off your haunches right now!¡±

    Father¡¯s wings beat the air as he caught Rasp¡¯s hair between his talons and pulled, screeching for him to run.

    ¡°For once in your mucking life, just listen to me,¡± Faris said. ¡°Go!¡±

    Against every instinct screaming at him to stay and fight, Rasp obeyed. Cursing Faris under his breath, he stumbled along, barely processing Father¡¯s directions as the towering, algae-riddled buildings whizzed past. This was madness. Absolute madness. He, a blind man, drained of magic, taking his chances alone in an underground city rife with predatory plants, a fanatic cult, and gods knows what else. Even with Father¡¯s aid, Rasp wouldn¡¯t last the day, much less the hour on his own.

    He couldn¡¯t do this. He couldn¡¯t do this. He couldn¡¯t do this.

    Croak! Father¡¯s warning came a moment too late.

    The ground shifted beneath Rasp¡¯s feet, throwing him sideways. He fell onto his side and slid several paces, clutching his worn pack for all he was worth. Rasp¡¯s aching body slid amongst the wet moss and rubble. He waited, with bated breath, listening for whatever monster was about to try to claim him as its next meal.

    Whatever the beast was, it was certainly taking its sweet time revealing itself.

    Rasp slung to pack on his back and retrieved his knife. He would lose, undoubtedly, but at least he could go down fighting. Maybe even give the beast an upset stomach on his way down. The ground shifted again. Rock and stone scraped and screeched together as the decayed street rearranged itself near his feet. The deafening noise lasted for several heartbeats before it, too, fell eerily quiet.

    The temperature changed. A cool draft swept over him, pulling at his loose clothes and hair, beckoned him closer.

    Rasp squinted at the ominous pile of rubble that had formed at his feet. Unfortunately, doing so did nothing to make his surroundings any clearer. ¡°Dad?¡±

    The raven landed on his shoulder and uttered a series of low knocking sounds from the back of his throat.

    ¡°The street just opened up,¡± Rasp repeated. He might have been astonished had this been the first time it¡¯d had happened.

    Deep down, he knew he should have turned and run, but Rasp was rooted to the spot with fear. Every hair on his arms raised as a familiar magic pulled at him, whispering in his ear. Little one, you did it. You found me, it crooned. Come inside now, hurry. And all of your troubles will vanish.

    The voice was eerily familiar and yet, for the life of him, Rasp couldn¡¯t recall why. He¡¯d heard it before, but the harder he tried to remember, the further it slipped away, like trying to recall a dream the morning after.

    Father beat the back of Rasp¡¯s head with his wings, urging him to move. Rasp wouldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t. He was frozen, unable to do anything but sit on his ass and wait for the inevitable to happen. Confused, terrified, with the alluring whisper dancing between his ears, Rasp missed the thundering footsteps that came up swiftly from behind.

    One moment, the lovely magic lady was whispering sweet nothings in his ear, and in the next, Rasp was being seized by the arm and dragged away from the rift. There was lots of yelling involved, too. From Rasp¡¯s rescuer, not him. Rasp was in too much shock to do anything but yelp each time his injured leg bumped and scraped against the spongy ground.

    The language barrier prevented Rasp from understanding what all the yelling was about, but it was just as well because his dwarf rescuer didn¡¯t sound very happy with him. Rasp didn¡¯t fight, not even when a second pair of hands snapped the blade from his hand and helped hoist him upright. Rasp¡¯s shaky legs refused to bear his weight and collapsed like soggy noodles. His rescuers muttered to each other as they set off, carrying Rasp between them.

    His body grew heavier and heavier as he lost command of his limbs. First his legs, then his arms, and then his head. Rasp¡¯s chin bounced uselessly against his chest as his neck gave out too. The vine¡¯s venom had taken its toll, he realized, suddenly, painfully aware that the agonizing throb in his leg had spread to his hip.

    Rasp¡¯s consciousness slipped away as the glowing bioluminescent algae wove into a living tapestry of light. Tiny pinpricks of blue-green glow danced, whirled, and wheeled against an ink black backdrop. The black expanded, swallowing the light. And then there was nothing. No light. No smell. No outside sound. The only noises Rasp heard were the slowing thud of his heartbeat and the alluring whisper that rippled across his fading thoughts, as soft and supple as silk.

    Don¡¯t fret, my dear. It is not yet time. Rest, recover, and rejoice, for you are home at last.

 206 - Epic Proportions

    More Lonebrook villagers had managed to slip the realm¡¯s net than Oralia first realized. Those unable to fight had already been smuggled out of the territory, leaving a handful of able-bodied citizens to help overthrow the residing realm power. Seemingly overnight, Briony¡¯s quiet cottage had turned into a madhouse. Volunteers scurried in and out of the front door like rats fleeing the storm drain before a flood. The small dining table had moved from the kitchen to the front room and was currently serving as a war table.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand.¡± Briony paced the small strip of floor alongside the unlit fireplace. The sharp click-clack of her hooves echoed as she stomped back and forth like a temperamental alley cat. ¡°Why aren¡¯t we calling in the resistance? They have both the numbers and the power we need. Not to mention the fact that you¡¯ve been working hand in hand with their leader this whole time. Of all people, surely Larkspur would answer your call for help.¡±

    Oralia had done her best to tiptoe around the details regarding her working relationship with Larkspur Denari ¡ª rather, the lack of one ¡ª all morning. Yes, it was true that Larkspur believed Oralia worked for her. It was also true that Larkspur believed a lot of things that were inherently false. Calling upon the Sons and Daughters of Resistance would only result in a sternly worded letter, demanding Oralia stop playing war and return to her rightful place at Larkspur¡¯s side. Lonebrook and its inhabitants would fall to the realm and Oralia would be forced to confront the budding dictator she¡¯d been passively avoiding for years.

    It was a lose-lose situation all around, which was why Oralia had doing everything in her power to avoid involving the resistance. ¡°Larkspur has no personal stake in Lonebrook. If it falls, it falls. She has no reason to interfere.¡±

    ¡°No reason?¡± Briony whipped around. ¡°Lonebrook was a fundamental link in her chain!¡±

    ¡°A chain that is now broken.¡± Oralia did not look up from the message she was writing with painstaking care. The constant tremble in her hand had rendered her normally neat penmanship embarrassingly sloppy. Surely it was the content of the letter, not its presentation, that mattered. Still, she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that her requests for aid would be better received had they not looked like they¡¯d been penned by an inebriated chicken.

    ¡°You served your purpose, Briony,¡± Oralia continued. ¡°And although it may pain her to lose Lonebrook, Larkspur cannot waste her resources trying to save every ally caught in the fold.¡±

    Briony slammed her hoof against the floorboards, causing the window to rattle in its frame. ¡°That¡¯s it? You¡¯re not even going to ask! Seven realms, Oralia, at least grovel a little bit! Maybe she¡¯ll throw us a bone.¡±

    ¡°You have been sending the resistance written requests for weeks. How well has that fared for you? Have you received a single reply?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then there you have it. Now you know where you rank on Larkspur¡¯s scale of importance.¡± Pain was sometimes necessary to drive a point home, and thus, Oralia did nothing to soften the sting of her next words. ¡°Your cause does not even merit a reply.¡±

    ¡°Well of course not.¡± Briony switched tactics with remarkable ease. ¡°Why would they respond? After all, I¡¯m just a lowly smuggler in a broken chain. My name doesn¡¯t have the same political pull as Oralia Dawnsight, former Protector of the Realm.¡±

    Briony graciously left off the newer additions of: ¡®traitor of the empire¡¯ and ¡®wanted fugitive¡¯.

    Oralia grudgingly set her paperwork aside and massaged her eyelids, using it as an excuse to not engage Briony in direct eye contact. ¡°Even if Larkspur was feeling generous enough to extend us her army, they would not reach Lonebrook in time. We must focus on more obtainable prospects.¡±

    ¡°Like who?¡±

    Oralia rested her hand on the stack of folded envelopes resting on the table beside her. ¡°I am calling in some favors.¡±

    There was a timid knock at the entrance that cut off Briony¡¯s line of questioning. The faun looked to the entryway and her irritated expression softened to confusion. ¡°Ellery?¡± She gestured for the newcomer to enter. ¡°What are you doing here? I¡¯m not supposed to see you until the end of the week.¡±

    A faun with a shaggy mop of brown hair and a matching beard stepped closer, offering a reassuring wave of his hand that was a little too trembly to be convincing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to surprise you like this, Briony, but something¡¯s come up.¡± His gaze darted in Oralia¡¯s direction. Whereas others would have at least tried to disguise their impolite ogling, he openly stared with wide, worried eyes.

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    Unlike his stare, Ellery¡¯s words were directed at Briony. ¡°I made sure no one saw me.¡±

    Fauns had an unspoken language of their own. A hoof stomp coupled with an ear flick could articulate an entire conversation without uttering a single word. Oralia shuffled papers as she watched the pair from the corner of her eye, hoping to decipher some of the back-and-forth conversation taking place in front of her. The newcomer, Ellery, must have been inquiring about Oralia¡¯s presence because Briony answered his question verbally.

    ¡°She¡¯s a friend.¡± The dismissive wave Briony offered was certainly well practiced as it managed to look convincing. ¡°Here to help. Whatever you need to tell me can be said in front of her.¡±

    No name was offered, just ¡®friend¡¯, Oralia noted. From the alarmed expression on his face, it was likely Ellery already suspected who she was. Still, Oralia appreciated Briony not spelling it out on the off chance his face always looked that way.

    Ellery took the woven hat from his shaggy head and held it in front of body like a shield. His strong hands unconsciously twisted the rim as he spoke. ¡°An armed company from the Division of Divination rode into town two nights ago. They¡¯re led by an elf by the name of Tarathiel Cray.¡±

    Oralia¡¯s hand froze as a bolt of panic shot down her spine.

    ¡°It¡¯s not good, Briony,¡± Ellery said. ¡°Cray¡¯s taken charge of the operation. He claims the soldiers have been too soft on traitors and aims to remedy that. He¡¯s already got us woodcutters working extra shifts for the rest of the week to help build something in the town square. No one knows what it is yet, only that it requires lots of lumber.¡±

    Briony was quiet for several beats as she digested this information. ¡°Any word from the main house?¡±

    The hat wringing intensified. ¡°Tensions are high. Mum said Judge Belfast didn¡¯t take the news well. He and Mister Cray fought and now the judge had been locked up in his own jailhouse. No one¡¯s seen head nor tail of Novera since.¡±

    ¡°Ellery¡¯s mother is the washerwoman at Belfast Manor,¡± Briony explained to Oralia. ¡°She¡¯s been our main source of information. She passes on whatever she can to him and vice versa.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s all I¡¯ve got for you,¡± Ellery said, already edging for the hallway. ¡°It seemed important enough not to sit on. I¡¯ve got to get back to work though, before someone notices.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Ellery. Can we still meet at the end of the week as arranged? In case you learn something in the meantime?¡±

    He offered a solemn nod.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Briony said again with a genuine smile. ¡°Be safe. Give your mother my love.¡± Briony waited until the click of his hooves disappeared down the hallway and out the front door before the smile faded. She stomped across the room and collapsed onto the green settee with a groan.

    ¡°Out with it,¡± Briony said from where she was steadily sinking into the cushions.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    ¡°I saw your face when Ellery mentioned Tarathiel Cray. I haven¡¯t heard that name mentioned before, but you obviously have.¡±

    The lack of notoriety surrounding the name Tarathiel Cray was by design. As his secret right hand, Geralt Lazuli had done his utmost to keep Cray out of the public eye. The elf was an enigma, a name without a face, someone who operated in the shadow¡¯s on Geralt¡¯s behalf.

    ¡°Cray is Geralt Lazuli¡¯s personal attack dog,¡± Oralia explained. ¡°I have never seen him face-to-face, but he is a powerful witch with a reputation for cruelty. His presence in Lonebrook means that Geralt has grown tired of waiting.¡±

    Briony slammed her clenched fist against the green couch cushion. ¡°I knew it had to be something bad. Ellery doesn¡¯t take risks, not like this. We only ever meet in the dead of the night. For him to come here unannounced means it¡¯s urgent.¡±

    Oralia agreed. She spared Briony¡¯s feelings by saying as much, however. Confirming that they were knee-deep and sinking in the proverbial quicksand of worsening situations wouldn¡¯t do either of them any good.

    ¡°Any idea what he¡¯s up to?¡± the faun said, glaring up at the ceiling. ¡°Honestly, what could Cray possibly be building? The village already has everything it needs to keep a small army for the winter. Extra fortifications, perhaps? Maybe they¡¯re going to put up walls and seal everyone inside?¡±

    ¡°The details are too vague. It could be any number of things.¡± The fact that Tarathiel Cray was involved meant the project was something detrimental ¡ª certainly worth investigating. ¡°If I could see it in person, however, perhaps even from a distance, I might be able to tell you.¡±

    Oralia heard the front door open and close with a slam. The sounds of incessant bickering followed as several pairs of footsteps made their way down the hallway in her direction. ¡°It will have to wait until later, I am afraid. I need to go over some matters with my team first.¡±

    Briony sat up on the settee. ¡°Are you booting me out of my own house?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not. You are more than welcome to stay and listen to the arguing if you like. Who knows, you might even be fortunate enough to witness the resulting fistfight.¡± Alas, Oralia was only half joking. From the way Mul and Lingon were going at it from the hallway, the likelihood of a brawl was in full swing already.

    Briony stood and made her prompt exit. ¡°You¡¯re right. I should investigate this mysterious project further. I¡¯ll see if I can find us a look-out point that won¡¯t get us seen.¡±

    Oralia nodded her agreement. Unlike Briony, she could not skip the impending fight. Her letters were written, the cards dealt, and now the only thing left to do was to play her hand and stand back to watch the chaos unfold. The meeting about to take place was not going to go over well. It would cause an argument of epic proportions. Of this, Oralia had no doubt, as she intended to be the one to start it.

 207 - Unfinished Business

    Oralia was sealing the last of her letters by the time the team came pushing and shoving their way into the makeshift war room. The only member missing was Sascha, who already knew the details of Oralia¡¯s plan and had taken it upon himself to forage for fresh ingredients as far from the cottage as physically possible. She preferred it that way, actually. Sascha was like a calming balm, capable of soothing even the worst of tempers. A people pleaser by nature, his first instinct would be to find a middle ground. Oralia, however, didn¡¯t need compromise, she needed results. And if stoking a few tempers is what it took, then so be it.

    ¡°Alright, boss. As requested, we¡¯ve got the whole gang here. One elf, one gobby, two dingleberries, and yours truly.¡± Rali jostled her way through the ragtag ensemble until she stood front and center. Rali could sniff out an impending fight in the same way a shark could sense blood in the water. Her tone was overly cheerful as a result, leery of what was about to happen and, more importantly, which side of the scrimmage she was going to be on. ¡°What¡¯s this about, eh?¡±

    Oralia skipped the niceties and dove straight into making demands. ¡°Mul, Lingon, I need one of you to find a raven and get a letter to your brother Bil immediately.¡±

    Lingon stood with a finger shoved halfway up his left nostril. He didn¡¯t seem particularly bothered to be caught picking his nose in the middle of the war room. The finger remained lodged in place as his incessant need to question everything reared its ugly head. ¡°What for?¡±

    Oralia took a breath, not due to a lack of answer, but because she already knew his response and dreaded the tedious back-and-forth that was to follow. ¡°I am asking for Bil¡¯s help.¡±

    ¡°Help? Ha! You don¡¯t just need help, you need an army.¡± Lingon said, still working away at what might have been a bit of petrified brain matter. ¡°There ain¡¯t no better army than a Stoneclaw army and you know it, which is why that letter¡¯s probably asking to borrow his.¡±

    Having your plans predicted so easily by a man with a knuckle jammed halfway up his brain cavity was a complicated feeling. One to which Oralia could not quite put words.

    A triumphant smile spread across Lingon¡¯s narrow face. ¡°Called it.¡±

    Oralia pushed her annoyance aside and answered truthfully. ¡°Yes, I am asking his army.¡±

    Although the Stoneclaw army was a relatively small one, the reputation of its warriors was far-reaching. Even a handful of mountain folk had the potential to sway the impending conflict in Lonebrook¡¯s favor.

    ¡°Fat chance of that,¡± Mul said with a scoff. ¡°No letter is gonna convince Bil to get off his ass now that he¡¯s finally found someplace for the clan to settle.¡±

    It was as she feared. Naturally, Oralia had a backup plan already prepared. ¡°Then one of you will have to go and plead my case in person.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand.¡± Mul crossed his burly arms over his chest and widened his defiant stance. It was a commendable effort, but a wasted one nonetheless. Relying on physical intimidation was generally a lost cause when your opponent was a fully grown orc. The human, alas, did not rely on intimidation alone, but words too. Logical ones. The worst kind.

    ¡°Just because you¡¯re friendly with us doesn¡¯t mean Bil¡¯s gonna feel the same way. You¡¯re the one who brought destruction to our mountain in the first place, remember? Bil¡¯s not going to lend you shit.¡±

    ¡°It was the three of you who chased your younger brother, Rasp, from the Iron Ridge in the first place,¡± Oralia challenged. She remained seated. While standing and towering over Mul would certainly help put the human in his place, she vowed to reserve it until absolutely necessary. For now, she would allow the facts of the matter to do the heavy lifting on her behalf. ¡°The same younger brother who bears silver hair, the irrefutable mark of a Stoneclaw leader, if I am not mistaken.¡±

    Some of Mul¡¯s resolve shrank along with his shoulders. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°You attempted to murder him, as both your brother and your leader. As the silver-hair, it is within his power to execute anyone who plotted against him, including family.¡±

    ¡°But he¨C¡±

    Oralia cut Mul off before he could finish his sentiment. ¡°Yes, Rasp spared your life once before, out of urgency for the situation. That does not mean your brother has forgiven you. I believe this is what humans refer to as ¡®unfinished business¡¯.¡±

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    Mul and Lingon traded wary looks. Neither interrupted this time, focused on containing the mounting panic raging behind their wide eyes.

    Oralia continued, content to watch them squirm beneath the weight of their own actions. ¡°If I were you, I would be doing everything in my power to make things right with him. Starting with Lonebrook. Rasp cares about the people who reside here. Enough so, that if you were to help save the village, he may be willing to forgive the unforgivable and overlook your assassination attempt.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Lingon dropped the finger from his nose as his stare lifted, taking in the empty space above Oralia¡¯s head.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Mul agreed, also refusing eye contact.

    ¡°Is that a yes, gentlemen?¡±

    With nothing left to pick, Lingon¡¯s hands didn¡¯t appear to know what to do with their down time. He fiddled with the tattered ends of his jacket as he spoke. ¡°I suppose it might be wise to try and get back in the little twerp¡¯s good graces.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Oralia replied. ¡°Pack your things.¡±

    Lingon¡¯s nomadic stare whipped back in her direction. ¡°You want us to leave now? Right before all the action starts?¡±

    ¡°Only one of you, ideally.¡± Oralia selected the topmost letter from the pile and extended it in his direction. ¡°You know where your clan is now. It is a long shot, I understand. But, like you, I am hopeful that your older brother will see the wisdom in appeasing the true leader of your clan. If Bil wishes to be spared from Rasp¡¯s wrath, he will allow the sender to return with a portion of his army.¡±

    Was Oralia effectively pulling this, as Rali would put so eloquently, ¡®out of her ass¡¯? Yes. Although she did not doubt that Rasp still harbored animosity towards his brothers, she did not know to what depths it extended. Fortunately, Rasp wasn¡¯t here to contest her strategy. And even if he were, Oralia was certain he would have approved of rescuing his chosen family by any means necessary. Doubly so if it meant torturing his brothers with the reminder of their own foul deeds.

    ¡°Not it!¡± Mul announced, slamming a clenched fist into his brother¡¯s arm.

    Lingon recoiled, clutching his injured arm with a snarl curled over his thin lips. ¡°You can¡¯t call dibs on staying!

    ¡°Can and did.¡±

    ¡°Over my dead body.¡± Lingon put up his guard and shifted his weight to his back foot. Pound for pound, he would never match Mul¡¯s brute strength, but Lingon had speed on his side and Oralia had seen him use it to his advantage far more times than she cared to remember. The sneer on his face twisted into a smile. ¡°We settle this fair and square, just like we always do.¡±

    Oralia snapped her tusks against her upper teeth. To her surprise, the brothers heeded her warning, and stopped squaring the other up. ¡°If one more fist fight breaks out between you two in this house, I will send both of you to deliver the message.¡±

    She wouldn¡¯t, actually. Oralia needed to keep her numbers in Lonebrook strong, but neither of them needed to know that. ¡°Mul,¡± Oralia said, ¡°you stay. Lingon, take the letter and the fastest horse you can find. Leave immediately.¡±

    The slender man looked like he wanted to argue but Oralia¡¯s unflinching stare convinced him to reconsider. Grumbling his acknowledgement, Lingon took the letter and stomped out. For all of Lingon¡¯s speed and cunning, Mul was still the better fighter. His size and strength would be crucial for the trials to come. And, with his main source of conflict having been removed, perhaps there would be less complaining in general as well.

    Grinning from ear to ear, Mul waggled his eyebrows at Rali in a manner that no one, the most desperate of humans included, would have found seductive. ¡°You hear that, Pickle? Even the boss knows our love is too strong to keep us apart.¡±

    Oralia squashed Mul¡¯s hopes before her lieutenant had the opportunity to squash him in the literal sense. ¡°Rali will be returning to Adderwood.¡±

    Both Rali and Mul jerked their heads back in Oralia¡¯s direction. ¡°She is?¡± Rali said. ¡°Can¡¯t you send someone else? Somebody a little less important, maybe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go!¡± Kalihn¡¯s arm shot into the air. ¡°No offense to any of you, but after all that fun in the woods with the fire witch and marauding gangs of bandits, I¡¯m not interested in partaking in an actual battle.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Rali agreed.

    ¡°Kalihn, thank you for your service.¡± Oralia refrained from the addition ¡®it was an honor watching you duck behind the corner the moment there was any action¡¯. ¡°You are free to do as you wish. If that includes traveling to Adderwood, Rali will ensure you arrive there safely.¡±

    Rali placed her hands on her hips. ¡°Excuse me? Just ¡®cause I call you boss, doesn¡¯t mean I have to do what you say.¡±

    ¡°As reluctant as I am to lose you, friend, I need someone who will not hesitate to throw their weight around. The New Adderwood Republic just gained their independence. Their leaders will not be in any hurry to squander their resources jumping straight into another rebellion. You will have to make them reconsider.¡± Oralia paused, uncertain of whether or not her next words were a step too far. ¡°At the very least, Captain Bernstein will be pleased to see you.¡±

    The giddy smile faded from Mul¡¯s face. ¡°Uncalled for! You can¡¯t send the love of my life into the arms of another man and expect me to be happy about it.¡±

    ¡°I do not expect you to be happy about it.¡± Oralia¡¯s gaze shifted from Mul to Rali. ¡°Either of you, but it is necessary.¡±

    This was not the last Oralia was going to hear on the matter. The unbridled fire dancing within the dwarf¡¯s dark eyes promised that there was more to come. Much, much more. Oralia would be lucky if she had two fully functioning ear drums by the time Rali was done saying her piece. The argument, luckily, could be postponed a little bit longer as Oralia had one last item to deal with before Rali was allowed to release all seven realms of chaos upon her in a single go.

 208 - Plausible Deniability

    The tension within the makeshift war room was so thick the proverbial knife would have snapped in half trying to cut through it. A metaphorical sledgehammer might have done the trick but, as far as evocative imagery went, it simply didn¡¯t have the same impact. Running a weary hand down her face, Oralia left the crafting of idioms to the experts and turned at last to the only member of her team she had not yet addressed. Ever the strong silent type, Dewpetal stood alongside the doorway with an expression that assured everyone in the room she knew exactly what was going on, language barrier be damned.

    Dewpetal spoke Yolcavisch, the dominant language of the swamplands. Despite Oralia¡¯s best efforts, she simply didn¡¯t have the ear for it. She stressed the wrong syllables, bungled her inflections and, according to Lingon, butchered tenses like a meat merchant drunk on fermented yak milk. Thanks to Lingon¡¯s many, many degrading lessons, Oralia could at least offer the traditional Yolcavisch greeting without stuttering.

    At least she hoped she did. Entrusting a Stoneclaw to teach her the correct translation and not some horrid insult was an honest to gods concern.

    Oralia greeted Dewpetal in the goblin¡¯s mother tongue. Dewpetal merely nodded, responding in the same manner she always did. That was as far as Oralia¡¯s linguistic abilities could take her. She relied on Mul to translate the rest. ¡°Tell Dewpetal that this is not her fight and that if she wishes to leave, she may accompany Rali and Kalihn back to Adderwood.¡±

    Battle was not the Stoneclaw clan¡¯s only strong suit. Unbeknownst to most, the mountain folk were quite gifted in their command of other languages as well. From a geographic standpoint, Oralia supposed it made sense. The Iron Ridge was a long sliver of territory surrounded on all sides by three larger nations. Oralia firmly believed the mountain folk had learned fluency not out of necessity, but for the mere want of yelling obscenities at their neighbors in a shared tongue.

    Mul worked through Oralia¡¯s message slowly, relying on an abundance of hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions to get his point across.

    Dewpetal wore a slightly amused expression on her gnarled face as she patiently waited for Mul to finish. She copied his manner of speaking, offering a slow, methodical response, as one would when negotiating with a toddler.

    ¡°She wants to know if her performance has been¡­¡± Mul looked back at Dewpetal and confirmed the word once more before finishing his statement. ¡°Unsatisfactory?¡±

    Gods no. The goblin was not only lethal, but managed to do it without questioning a single order. Not to mention the lack of complaining. And while all of this could merely be chalked up to the language barrier, Dewpetal seemed genuinely happy to be helpful. Something with which Oralia had very little experience. If only the goblin¡¯s habits would have rubbed off on the others.

    ¡°Unsatisfactory?¡± Oralia repeated. ¡°No. I would dare say her performance has been exemplary.¡±

    Mul recrossed his arms. ¡°In that case, Dewpetal says she¡¯s a little insulted that you¡¯re trying to send her away. She intends to honor her contract in full.¡±

    That could prove to be an issue. Not that the goblin wished to keep fighting, but that Oralia¡¯s financial reserves would only last so long. As much as she wished for the situation in Lonebrook to be resolved in a timely manner, that was rarely the case with these sorts of things. ¡°I cannot hold Dewpetal to a contract if I do not have the funds with which to pay her. There is only enough silver to retain her services for a few more weeks at most.¡±

    Dewpetal¡¯s facial expression changed when Mul communicated this to her. She rattled off a series of words that were a little too quick for him to catch. After a few back and forths, Mul was able to work out the reason why. ¡°Money won¡¯t be an issue. Says she¡¯s doing it for redemption.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure that is what she said?¡± Perhaps Oralia had been too hasty in sending Lingon on his way so soon. He was undoubtedly the better translator of the two. She wondered if there was still time to run out and catch him.

    Unaware of Oralia¡¯s thoughts, Mul carried on his explanation. ¡°Apparently Dewpetal suffered some kind of disgrace back in the flatlands? Anyway, this is her way of proving herself.¡±

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    While helping dismantle the realm certainly had the potential to elevate the goblin¡¯s status in the eyes of her fellow swamplanders, this seemed like an overly complicated way of doing so. Once more, Oralia pressed Mul for clarification. ¡°Are you positive that you are translating that correctly?¡±

    Mul lifted one burly shoulder on a careless shrug. ¡°She said it worked for Snag.¡±

    Had it? That too seemed strange. Unfortunately, Oralia did not have the time nor mental wherewithal to sift through the finite pieces for the bare facts of the matter. She would not turn down a helping hand, particularly when it was a competent one. At such a convenient price, too.

    ¡°Very well. Company dismissed.¡± A wave of Oralia¡¯s hand sent everyone but Rali filing out into the adjoining hallway.

    Oh gods, here it was. The fight Oralia had been dreading all morning. She braced herself for the onslaught, but said nothing, preferring for Rali to to be the first to launch the verbal assault.

    The dwarf was abnormally silent. With her lower jaw locked and shoulders squared, Rali marched over and planted both palms onto the table with a slam. She followed Oralia¡¯s example and said nothing, content to stare with narrowed, unblinking eyes.

    The staring contest lasted nearly half a minute before Oralia was forced to concede. The wooden chair legs creaked beneath her in protest as she leaned back with a sigh. ¡°Please do not render this molehill into a cliffside.¡±

    ¡°Mountain,¡± Rali corrected.

    Oralia supposed Rali would know. She was, after all, the expert at creating mountains of issues wherever she went. Oralia didn¡¯t mind so much when they were on the same side, but today was different. For the first time in a long time, they were not of the same mind and Oralia¡¯s opinion would not be swayed, come hell or high water.

    Which is why Rali¡¯s next words, spoken low, like a gravely hiss, caught Oralia completely by surprise. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Oralia waited, cautiously, as if expecting a follow up statement that would render Rali¡¯s acceptance void. ¡°You will?¡±

    ¡°Not because you¡¯re telling me to,¡± Rali clarified, ¡°but because you¡¯re right. Short of going yourself ¡ª which I would argue for if I didn¡¯t already know it¡¯d be a waste of good breath ¡ª I am the only one those Adderwood fuckos might listen to.¡±

    An unexpected wave of relief washed over Oralia, easing some of the heat from her face. ¡°Thank you, friend.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you ¡®friend¡¯ me, missy! We¡¯re going to lay down some ground rules first.¡±

    ¡°Again, when was it you become my mother?¡±

    ¡°You think this is the role I want? You¡¯re supposed to be the responsible one, not me!¡± Typically this is where a normal person would start to count off on their fingers, using their digits as a visual tally. Rali went for a more creative approach and relied solely on one, raising her middle finger with the introduction of each new rule. ¡°Now, number one: no doing anything stupid or reckless until I get back. Number two: don¡¯t go near the village. Don¡¯t talk to strangers. Bring a jacket with you even if it doesn¡¯t feel cold and lastly, don¡¯t even think about getting all chummy with Briony while I¡¯m away. If I come back and you two are best friends, I will bring the full might of all seven realms of chaos down upon you!¡±

    ¡°As opposed to channeling that might at the enemy?¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s up to you, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Oralia could not fight the smile that broke across her weary face. She stood, walked several steps around the table, and pulled Rali in for a hug. ¡°I could never replace you.¡±

    Rali squeezed back. ¡°Damn right, you can¡¯t. I am the stubborn tick in your side and you¡¯re stuck with me whether you like it or not!¡±

    ¡°Do me one favor,¡± Oralia said.

    ¡°No, never! You¡¯ve all exhausted all my favors. What, with sending me away when you¡¯re at your most vulnerable. Who¡¯s supposed to protect you and the wee one, huh? You think Sascha¡¯s going to sit at the foot of your bed and keep watch for would-be intruders all night long?¡±

    ¡°I would prefer you stopped doing that, actually.¡±

    ¡°Well wish granted, because I won¡¯t be here. ¡®Cause of you and your cockamamie plans!¡±

    This was not the fight Oralia had expected. It was going rather smoothly, all things considered. She still had two fully functioning kneecaps and Rali hadn¡¯t threatened to start breaking the furniture. Oralia stood back and placed her hands on Rali¡¯s shoulders as one did when imparting pertinent information to someone whose attention wandered as aimlessly a stray dog. ¡°As I was saying, do me a favor and save all of this dramatic energy for Adderwood. It is going to take everything you have got to sway their council.¡±

    Rali stood back and snapped off a sharp salute. ¡°Use fire and explosives, got it.¡±

    ¡°That is not what I said.¡±

    ¡°Look at you using that brain of yours.¡± Rali tapped the side of her nose as she swung about and stomped for the door. ¡°Plausible deniability. Smart thinking, boss!¡±

 209 - Pansies In A Slop Bucket

    A color-streaked sky stretched overhead, painting the endless fields of rolling grasses in the late autumn hues of salmon and gold. The fading sun slowly sank below the western horizon at their backs. White puffs of cotton grass danced in the cool breeze, kicking up an aroma similar to nettle and steeped bitter leaves. With the twilight hour approaching, a peacefulness settled over the swaying tundra. It was calm. It was beautiful. And it went entirely unnoticed by Daana, who was on the verge of throwing herself from the saddle.

    Everything hurt. Her legs, her back, places no respectable lady dared mention in front of company. Daana no longer fancied herself a lady but, regardless of whatever she qualified as these days ¡ª ruffian, outlaw, overgrown baby ¡ª admitting her ass hurt came with a guaranteed amount of embarrassment she¡¯d rather avoid. She suffered in silence instead, trying to recall whether or not sitting for prolonged periods of time had always been this agonizing. The pain was particularly noticeable on horseback. Daana swore she could feel her hip bones steadily wearing away against the leather saddle beneath her.

    Her horse plodded on, blissfully unaware that each bobbing stride sent a jolt of pins and needles into the last place anyone wanted pins and needles. Daana wouldn¡¯t be able to sit still for much longer. Which was unfortunate, considering they wouldn¡¯t be stopping anytime soon. Snag was hellbent on using every last shred of available light. He insisted they would set camp only after nightfall and not a moment sooner.

    ¡°We¡¯re not stopping,¡± Snag said from his position at the lead of the procession.

    Daana glared at the back of his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t have to. You were thinking it. I could tell, what with all that restless squirming you keep doing back there.¡± Snag¡¯s small frame sat straight in the saddle with his long ears fanned wide, shifting directions at will as he listened for would-be trouble. ¡°The closer we get to the border, the better.¡±

    Snag wouldn¡¯t divulge much else. Daana knew this as she¡¯d tried to pry him for information several times that day already. Daana decided to try her luck with Ashwyn instead. She twisted around in the saddle to get a better view of the orc riding behind her. Like Snag, Ashwyn was on high alert. She held her mouth partially open, pulling in the breeze through her nostrils and running the air over her tongue, silently processing what the different scents were telling her.

    ¡°Any change?¡± Daana asked.

    Ashwyn¡¯s unfocused gaze stared straight ahead, as if she¡¯d shut off her ability to process visual information to better concentrate on smell. ¡°I¡¯m picking up more than yesterday. Little buggers keep increasing their numbers.¡±

    An unknown number of goblins had been trailing them since their breakfast encounter two days prior. Although Daana occasionally caught the sounds of whispered voices and the scurry of bodies darting through the tall grasses, she had yet to see any of their goblin pursuers. So far their followers weren¡¯t hostile. The majority trailed a quarter of a mile or so behind, maintaining a healthy distance at all times.

    The undulating sway of the tundra grass had a hypnotic effect. Daana feared if she stared too long, she¡¯d forget herself entirely. She rid herself of the feeling with a shake of her head. ¡°What do you think it means?¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s brow furrowed, as though the question was a direct insult to her intelligence. ¡°That more goblins are following us? What else would it mean?¡±

    ¡°I meant why.¡±

    ¡°Then you should have bloody said that!¡±

    Snag¡¯s raspy voice rang out ahead of them. ¡°They¡¯re following us because some bright-eyed youngsters went and told every den in the area how a nice traveling caravan gave them a whole rasher of bacon for some measly information. The rest are just trying to figure out how to get in on the action.¡±

    The tips of Daana¡¯s ears burned as she turned back around and sank lower in the saddle. ¡°Are you worried about theft?¡±

    ¡°Not really. They¡¯re looking for handouts, not trouble.¡±

    It was a fair assessment. After all, Snag would know better than anyone how the area¡¯s dens operated. And while Daana did not doubt the truth of his statement, she suspected there was more at play than he was letting on. ¡°Are you sure this doesn¡¯t have to do with the other thing they said?¡± Daana prodded. ¡°You know, regarding that infamous goblin who¡¯s been welcomed back home?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t start,¡± Snag said.

    ¡°I mean, who wouldn¡¯t want to catch a glimpse of a renowned hero? Seems something like that could draw a crowd just as easily as handouts.¡±

    Snag had a developed unique way of shutting down Daana¡¯s arguments without having to neither confirm nor deny her suspicions. Naturally, it involved pain. ¡°What¡¯s that? You wanna keep riding through the night, girl? Keep talking and your wish shall come true.¡±

    ¡°For goddess¡¯s sake! Quit while you¡¯re ahead, Peaches!¡± Ashwyn snapped her tusks with a mighty crack. Daana swore she saw the surrounding grass quiver in fear. ¡°I swear, if we have to go all night because of you, I¡¯m going to double your training exercises in the morning.¡±

    ¡°It was simply an observation,¡± Daana replied smartly.

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    ¡°I have an observation for you,¡± Ashwyn said through gritted teeth. ¡°Stop, else you¡¯re hurt in places you aren¡¯t even aware of.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a threat, not an observation.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll become an observation when I watch you run drills from dawn to dusk!¡± The orc¡¯s voice rose to match her escalating irritation. ¡°Sleep will be but a past memory.¡±

    Daana rolled her eyes. Her observation had been a legitimate one. In fact, given Snag¡¯s overreaction, it was probably more than legitimate. Possibly even accurate. As pointing this out would not end well for her, Daana did the sensible thing and bit back her tongue. That, and she spent the rest of the ride making faces at the back of Snag¡¯s head ¡ª which wasn¡¯t so much sensible as it was petty, but dammit it was something.

    The trio rode until the sky turned from dusky pink to violet, and then ink black. The stars were in full display by the time Snag found a suitable spot to rest. He built a sheltered fire while Ashwyn roped off the perimeter with strands of low hanging twine attached to bells. The bells were an alarm system, meant to give them the split second they needed to cut through the first wave of attackers if and when they were jumped in the dead of the night, according to Ashwyn anyway.

    Daana was left to tend to the horses. Normally she didn¡¯t mind, but her arms and legs were unbearably stiff and each saddle suddenly felt like it weighed ten times what it normally did. The brush down went smoother, except for when it came to Wormy, who kept nipping at her pockets in his relentless demand to be spoiled.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any apples,¡± Daana insisted as the nosy horse muzzled her jacket, probing for something edible.

    This didn¡¯t stop Wormy, who decided the end of Daana¡¯s braid was just as delicious.

    ¡°No, no, no!¡± She tried to pull her hair free of the horse¡¯s mouth, but her efforts were for naught. In a mere matter of seconds, the situation turned from a rescue attempt to a painful game of tug-of-war. ¡°Snag, help! He¡¯s turned cannibalistic!¡±

    ¡°Predatory,¡± Snag corrected.

    Daana attempted to whip her head in his direction, which was difficult considering she was still battling the mutant pig-horse for her hair. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Wormy¡¯s not an elf. And unless you¡¯re implying you¡¯re suddenly a horse, it¡¯s not really cannibalism, now is it?¡±

    Ashwyn was knelt on the ground, still rigging her alarm bells. She snorted her amusement. ¡°We all knew she was a horse¡¯s ass already. At least now she¡¯s admitting it.¡±

    ¡°Wormy is an opportunist eater.¡± Snag carried on as if his precious beast wasn¡¯t inches away from munching on someone¡¯s head. ¡°Saw him eat a snake once. Wasn¡¯t even hungry, just ate it ¡®cause¨C¡±

    ¡°Snag!¡± Daana yelled.

    A single, sharp whistle from his owner was all that was necessary to convince Wormy to relinquish her hair. Daana gathered the soggy mess protectively into her hands. The edges of her nostrils wrinkled in disgust as she realized her meticulous braiding had been for nothing. Her hair was now a wet, matted tangle that smelled overwhelmingly similar to a pigsty. Awarding Wormy her fiercest glare, she turned and limped towards the cook pit, unsure of how exactly she was going to remove the stench of putrid horse mouth from her head.

    She snatched the blanket from her bedroll and wrapped it snuggly around her shoulder before settling onto the cold ground next to Snag. Her sores flared, largely forgotten until now, kindly reminded her that sitting on the ground was not any better than a saddle. Daana refused to stew on it. Not when there was a mutant pig-horse that deserved the focus of her growing ire.

    Snag kept his eyes on the simmering liquid within the soup pot. The tips of his needle-like teeth were sunk well into his bottom lip, fighting a smile.

    ¡°It¡¯s not funny,¡± Daana muttered.

    ¡°I told you making your head smell like a bucket of flowers was a bad idea.¡±

    ¡°Bouquet.¡±

    Gods forbid she actually smell like something other than sweat and horse! That was the part all of the grand adventure stories conveniently left out. Everyone smelled awful all of the time. What was even more unrealistic was the hero¡¯s kiss at the end of each brazen rescue. The cloud of body odor and perpetual morning breath would have been enough to convince any damsel to choose life with the dragon.

    ¡°Nah.¡± Snag¡¯s harsh voice cleaved the strange thread Daana¡¯s mind was swiftly spiraling down. The goblin gave the mysterious contents of his stew a few slow stirs as the smile stretched further across his leathery face. ¡°I meant what I said. Your hair definitely smelled like pansies in a slop bucket.¡±

    Daana narrowed her eyes at him.

    As usual, glaring did little to deter Snag¡¯s relentless teasing. ¡°What?¡± He feigned innocence, clasping a hand to his chest. ¡°I said slop and not shit, didn¡¯t I? See? I cater to your precious feelings sometimes.¡±

    Daana awarded him her fiercest scowl yet. In lieu of stopping, Snag merely thumbed his nose up at her instead.

    Ashwyn dropped down onto the ground between them, disrupting their silent battle of wills. ¡°Goddess, I¡¯m starving. I hope that stew¡¯s nearly ready, else I¡¯m gonna have to find some other means of nourishment.¡±

    Daana noticed the way the orc was eyeing her hair and switched her mangled braid to her other shoulder, out of reach. ¡°Hilarious.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I thought so, too.¡±

    The stew was ready not long after. Snag was in the middle of ladling portions when a shrill screech blasted over the top of the grasslands. His ears shot into the air, eyes so wide, each pupil floated like a miniature island in a sea of yellow. The squeal of the pipe persisted, working through a series of off-key notes in the most torturous manner possible.

    Daana watched Snag¡¯s face for clues. The subtle eye twitch was certainly indicative of something. It was too bad she didn¡¯t know what.

    ¡°More visitors?¡± she asked, once the message had been delivered in full.

    Ashwyn tucked her bowl of steaming stew closer to her chest with a snarl. ¡°Greedy little buggers aren¡¯t getting my dinner this time. Better eat up quick, Daana. Before they get here.¡±

    At the moment, food wasn¡¯t her main concern. Nor was it the possibility of another goblin encounter. Daana was far more troubled by Snag¡¯s rapid transition from teasing asshole to stone statue. She swore he hadn¡¯t blinked once since the pipe music started. ¡°What¡¯s the message? What are they saying?¡±

    His lower jaw quivered, needled teeth glistening in the low light of the cook fire. ¡°I¡­¡± His voice failed him and, gathering his courage for a second attempt, he still only managed to get a single word out. ¡°I¡­¡±

    Daana¡¯s heartbeat picked up. ¡°You, what?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Snag¡¯s ears drooped as his entire body sank, as though he was attempting to become one with the ground. Finally, around the quivering of his tongue, the words tumbled free with a whimper. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here.¡±

 210 - Remember Me As I Was: Naked And Screaming

    Rasp awoke dead. When he jerked his head free of the damp pillow, his skin hot to the touch and coated in a sheen of sweat, he was surprised to find the afterlife had provided him with a coffin. What was even more surprising was that it was downright comfortable. The funeral shroud placed delicately over his prone form was warm and smelled of citrus and crushed cloves. It was a little insulting they¡¯d arranged him facedown but, then again, between his face and his ass, the latter was the more appealing feature.

    ¡®Here lies the biggest pain in the ass to have ever lived¡¯, his headstone would say. No. That wasn¡¯t right. Rasp deserved better than that. After all, he¡¯d helped stop a damn apocalypse! Never mind the fact that he¡¯d been the one to set it off in the first place ¡ª that little tidbit didn¡¯t matter. The point was, he¡¯d overcome his old ways and turned into something good, for the betterment of all mortal-kind.

    Now that was someone who deserved a decent head stone. Something along the lines of: ¡®remember me as I was: naked and screaming¡¯.

    Nah. Still not right.

    It was missing something. A punch of emotion, perhaps. Anyone visiting his gravestone needed to be reminded just how much he meant to them. ¡®It should have been you, Faris¡¯.

    As Rasp laid there, facedown in his burial pillow, arranging the details of his funeral, he gradually became aware of another presence. Something was nearby. It shuffled about, heavy feet dragging across the floor as ancient wooden boards groaned beneath its weight.

    Floorboards? Rasp thought.

    That wasn¡¯t right. They didn¡¯t bury people above ground. For fuck¡¯s sake, if they¡¯d left him facedown in an open casket for all the word to see, he was going to have to come back and haunt someone!

    Had Rasp still possessed survival instincts, they would have demanded he put his head back down and remain still, and wait for the danger to pass. As he was already dead, he had no need for survival instincts. Thus, Rasp flipped over, fighting to remove the dark shroud that served as the thin layer between him and the world of the living.

    ¡°Get off me!¡± he cursed, struggling to untangle the sheet from his unruly limbs.

    Rasp¡¯s arms were numb and cumbersome, as if they¡¯d been left out in the cold too long. He tried to use his legs to assist in getting himself free, but all he got for his effort was a shooting pain in his right ankle. Clutching his throbbing foot, he fell back into the coffin, only partially aware that he was screaming at the top of his lungs.

    Heavy footsteps clomped against the floorboards moments before the shroud was lifted from Rasp¡¯s mangled corpse. His rescuer spoke. The guttural words, alas, were not any Rasp recognized.

    Rasp twisted his head from side to side in a futile attempt to take in his surroundings. For some incredibly cruel reason, even in death he was blind. That didn¡¯t seem very fair. It wasn¡¯t total darkness, however. He could make out a dim light flickering not far from his final resting place. A tallow candle, according to his nose. His tongue agreed as the dingy air tasted remarkably similar to rancid bacon grease.

    The candle did a piss poor job of illuminating the surrounding room. Fuzzy shapes and shadows filled the space, arranged in a way indicative of furniture and, therefore, a tripping hazard. Not that running from death would do him any good, but it was nice to have a contingency plan just in case.

    A stout form loomed over the top of him, still talking at a volume far too loud for their given proximity.

    Rasp shooed the angel of death away with a limp wave of his hand. ¡°Will you give it a rest? Pace yourself, for the gods¡¯ sakes. You¡¯ve got all eternity to torture me.¡±

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    The speaker relented, for a few seconds anyway, before stating something that sounded like it might have been a question.

    ¡°I don¡¯t speak ghost yet, sorry.¡±

    The speaker tried again. This time more slowly, with distinct pauses between each word. It was similar to the manner in which Rasp used to explain to his brothers why clutching a bunch of feathers before jumping off a cliff would not work. Regrettably, Rasp happened to be the dim-wit in this particular scenario and failed to grasp the angel of death¡¯s meaning.

    ¡°Talking slower does not make me understand a language I don¡¯t speak!¡± He crossed his arms over his chest, muttering, ¡°Just makes me feel stupid.¡±

    The speaker sighed. The heavy, full-bodied kind that usually involved a nose pinch or some other demonstration of mental exhaustion. ¡°You¡­¡± they said, struggling to piece the words together.

    ¡°I understood that.¡± Rasp sat straighter. ¡°Go on. Me, what?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s encouragement gave the angel of death the motivation he needed to finish his sentence. ¡°Stay.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t leave?¡± Rasp was really nailing this whole communicating with the dead thing.

    The speaker stepped away, repeating the command. ¡°Stay.¡±

    Rasp held his palms aloft in the universal sign of ¡®I¡¯ll do exactly what you say until your back¡¯s turned and then, well, no promises. But don¡¯t worry about that.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯m staying,¡± Rasp said. ¡°See? Not going anywhere, am I?¡±

    A heavy door creaked open and shut, followed by the unmistakable jingle of metal keys as the lock was twisted shut from the other side. Damn. A locked door was going to make the ¡®stay¡¯ order significantly harder to disobey. Clever death. What did the afterlife need locks for anyway? Was it possible for a ghost to stumble his way back to the side of the living?

    You know you¡¯re not dead.

    It was true, Rasp supposed. What he¡¯d initially mistook for a coffin was clearly just a bed with an understuffed straw mattress. It¡¯d been so long since he¡¯d slept on anything other than cold, hard ground that it had merely felt heavenly. Acknowledging that he was alive came with a daunting to-do list, however, which was probably why he¡¯d been putting off his inevitable resurrection for as long as possible. A corpse could just lounge around without a care. Unlike him, who now had to get out of bed, break out, locate the others, and then get them all topside before anyone noticed.

    Groaning, Rasp scooted his way to the edge of the bed and swung his stiff legs over, surprised to find the floor much closer than he expected. He gripped the cold wood with his bare toes, feeling every buckle and crease underfoot as he considered how he¡¯d become a giant without noticing.

    His brain helpfully provided the answer. You¡¯ve been captured by dwarfs, idiot. All of their furniture is close to the ground.

    Oh, right. The whole captured by an underground cult had felt so much like a bad dream, he¡¯d simply dismissed it as one. Kind of sad that, in comparison, death was the more desirable option. He definitely wasn¡¯t staying put now. Rasp held his breath as he willed his leaden legs into an upright position. The dull throb in his right ankle neatly stepped over the threshold from tolerable to ¡®oh my gods, someone hand me the bone saw, I¡¯ve got hack this fucking thing off!¡¯

    Rasp flopped back down onto the bed with a mangled scream, writhing as an invisible wave of blistering fire rolled up his leg. After a few moments of pathetic sobbing, able to do little more than remember to breathe around the tightness in his chest, the brunt of the pain subsided. Rasp worked his fingers down his pantleg and gingerly lifted the hem of his trousers away from his swollen flesh. His ankle was hot to the touch and bulbous, stretched tight with an ungodly amount of liquid pooled beneath the skin.

    The dwarf¡¯s ¡®stay¡¯ order seemed a little less ominous now. Rasp wiggled his way back into the center of the sagging mattress, resigned to stay put. This, alas, left his thoughts to wander unchecked.

    If he was alive, it meant the others were too, right? Gods, he hoped so. He wouldn¡¯t make a good virginal sacrifice on his own, after all. And why was it always virgins anyway? Was it because the deity was awful at sacrifice and simply didn¡¯t want its victims to be none the wiser? ¡®Stick me with your teeth, oh great and awful one! Stick me harder! Are you sticking me? No, seriously? Is that it? Wait, you¡¯re done? No, no, no. It was fine. I just imagined my first time, I don¡¯t know, a little more torturous is all¡¯.

    Rasp tried to distract himself with absurd sacrificial situations, but his mind kept wandering back to the one topic he wished to avoid. The voice. That soft, crooning sound that had called to him from the darkness, beckoning him to find it. The memory sent chills shimmying down his overheated skin. Whatever it was, it wanted him. And, like all of his past love interests, the more they wanted him, the more desperate Rasp was to get away.

    A bum leg, mysterious voices, and an underground cult set on sending him to his death. Good gods, Rasp thought as he ran a heavy hand down his face. How in the realm was he going to get them out of this one?

 211 - The Nameless One

    The jingle of iron keys warned Rasp that he had visitors. There was a metallic clunk and a vigorous twist before the heavy bolt slid away. Rusted hinges squealed in protest as the door swung open, allowing a channel of blinding light to filter in from the outside. Rasp eased his head up off the pillow, using his elbows for support, and squinted at the obnoxiously bright doorway.

    Two blurry shapes shuffled inside, their stout forms backlit by the light pouring in from the hallway. The pair ducked in surprise when a dark projectile rocketed over their heads in a frenzy of feathers and talons.

    Croak! Father circled the room twice, chattering up a storm, before settling onto Rasp¡¯s pillow in an uneasy fluff of bristled feathers.

    ¡°Good to see you too,¡± Rasp murmured, refusing to look away from the open doorway. Alas, rushing the exit wouldn¡¯t do him any good with a hobbled leg. He¡¯d be lucky to get a single step in before his injury felled him. Still didn¡¯t stop him from trying to gauge the distance from the bed to the door, though. ¡°You didn¡¯t happen to find any of the others before me, Dad, did you?¡±

    Father had, actually. Faris, Hop, and June were being housed in separate rooms nearby, purposely isolated from one another. Father¡¯s attempts to dart inside and check on them had been unsuccessful. He didn¡¯t know what state any of them were in, but the lack of sounds coming from within their rooms hadn¡¯t sat right with him. He¡¯d started to fear they were all dead, Rasp included. That is until he heard all the commotion about ghosts and the afterlife from out in the hallway.

    Across the room from Rasp, the dwarfs finished their hushed conversation and stepped all the way inside. Hinges squealing, the door slammed shut behind them, rendering the chamber oppressively dark once more. One of the entrants stopped about halfway, content to venture no further. A single set of heavy footsteps continued on alone.

    Father hissed a warning but the newcomer shuffled along, unfazed by Rasp¡¯s feathery watchdog. The dwarf reached Rasp¡¯s bedside and sat without being invited. The straw mattress sagged beneath their combined weight. Rasp¡¯s visitor didn¡¯t speak, not at first, but he knew who she was from a single sniff. The overpowering combination of crushed rose petals and tobacco smoke told him it was Priestess Oreword.

    A wiser man knew to keep his silence and wait for the enemy to reveal their hand. Rasp was certainly not wise and barely qualified as man most of the time, but even he could keep his mouth shut when he wanted. He locked his jaw, quieting the nagging thoughts demanding to know what had happened to the rest of his party.

    The priestess leaned closer and, once more, helped herself to Rasp¡¯s face without asking. She cupped his chin in her calloused hands and looked him over, muttering to herself as she did so.

    ¡°No touching!¡± Rasp snapped, pulling away.

    The interpreter, Bromm, was content to keep his distance and translate from afar. ¡°Priestess Oreword believes the nameless one calls to you. You have heard it, yes?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what any of that means, but you¡¯re not getting another word out of me until I know everyone else is alive and safe.¡±

    ¡°Your companions are still recovering,¡± Bromm explained. ¡°All four of you were poisoned during your escape. The body will flush the toxin on its own, but it takes time. You are the first to regain consciousness.¡±

    Unbelievable. A whole party taken out by a damn weed! Just one more reason to hate vegetables, Rasp supposed. ¡°But they¡¯re all good, right? Expected to make a full recovery?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Thanks to our people, of course. Who saved you from becoming plant fodder.¡±

    Well this was awkward. It wasn¡¯t everyday you had to credit a cult for saving your skin. Rasp reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Thanks, I guess.¡±

    ¡°As a show of your appreciation, Priestess Oreword would like you to speak with her truthfully. Starting with what it was that brought you down here. A voice, perhaps? One that calls to you in your head?¡±

    ¡°Desperation is what brought us here, not a voice. We went underground because it was the only option to avoid capture.¡± Rasp paused, momentarily conflicted, before spilling the rest of the truth. He didn¡¯t like revealing all his cards so soon, but if the dwarfs knew about the voice, then maybe they¡¯d know how to stop it from worming its way into his brain. ¡°But I did hear a voice. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve heard it, either. I heard it once before, back on the surface. It reached me through a harmony stone.¡±

    ¡°A harmony stone?¡± Bromm repeated.

    ¡°Yeah. Giant pillar built to honor fae or something. Details are a bit fuzzy but the thing was huge and crawling with magic.¡±

    Bromm and Priestess Oreword murmured back and forth in hushed, worried tones.

    Rasp waited, but neither seemed inclined to include him in the discovery process. ¡°It¡¯s something bad, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s why you¡¯re keeping it all hush-hush.¡±

    Finally, Bromm delivered the grim news, in the matter-of-fact manner that he seemed incapable of deviating from. ¡°You are being hunted by an ancient monster, whom we call the nameless one.¡±

    What a terribly unclever name. And while Rasp sorely wanted to point out that referring to something as nameless was still giving a fucking name, deep down he knew it didn¡¯t matter. Arguing pointless details served no other purpose but to distract himself from what was truly taking place. The monster, as ridiculously named as it was, deserved his full attention.

    ¡°The nameless one is an enchanter,¡± Bromm explained. ¡°It projects its voice into the minds of prey and puts them under its spell. Victims caught in the throes of its siren song are then lured into the beast¡¯s lair, destined to never to be seen again. The priestess believes the nameless one has found a way to tap into the harmony stones above ground and uses them as means to broaden its range.¡±

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    ¡°Ah.¡±

    ¡°It wishes to consume you,¡± Bromm continued, as if his prior explanation had not been abundantly clear on its own.

    ¡°Yeah, I got that,¡± Rasp said quietly. He then added, less quietly, as the anger started to bubble up from within. ¡°Of course it wants to eat me. Why is it no one ever wants me around purely for the sake of my company? I am a delightful person!¡±

    Father politely disagreed.

    ¡°No one asked you, old man!¡±

    Bromm and Priestess Oreword fell silent. Rasp imagined they were too busy trading skeptical glances to point out he¡¯d been nothing but a thorn in their sides so far. ¡°Okay, mostly a delight. It doesn¡¯t apply to people trying to use me as a sacrifice.¡± Rasp gestured for Bromm to carry on. ¡°Anyway, I get the strangest feeling you¡¯re not done telling me about your magic beastie. Go on. Get it over with. Tell how truly fucked I am.¡±

    ¡°The nameless one is a remnant from the age of raw magic. It goes dormant after eating, often decades at a time. The more magic a meal provides, the longer it sleeps. For centuries the beast has feasted upon surface dwellers lured into the underground by its siren song.¡±

    Rasp remembered Hop mentioning how none of the parties sent to explore Kalikose had ever returned. Being fed to a nameless monstrosity was fucking grim, even for cult.

    Rasp¡¯s face must have given his thoughts away because Bromm¡¯s matter-of-fact tone actually changed. It now carried the unmistakable sting of offense. ¡°We are not monsters. Our people put up every preventative measure to stop surface dwellers from entering the underground, including collapsing the existing gateways. It has been over three decades since the last outsider stepped foot inside our city. The only reason you made it this far is because you are in the company of the Kriegaar. It was predestined fate.¡±

    Rasp held up his hands in protest. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything!¡±

    Priestess Oreword placed her hand on Rasp¡¯s elbow in a silent order for him to shut up and let her handle Bromm herself. Although her tone was gentle, Rasp sensed an underlying disapproval ¡ª like a parent assuring their ruly offspring that they weren¡¯t mad, simply disappointed. Having been the recipient of many such lectures, Rasp had the sudden inexplicable urge to crawl under the bed.

    When Bromm addressed Rasp again, the defensiveness had bled from his voice, replaced instead with sorrow. Rather than apologize for his outburst, he merely picked where he¡¯d left off. ¡°Without magic to sustain it, the nameless one has grown ravenous. The beast has turned to eating flesh. It has claimed ten from our clan so far.¡±

    Oof, that was a depressing thought. Rasp almost felt bad for them now. Still, saving an underground cult from an ancient monster wasn¡¯t on his to-do list. He had his own people to save.

    ¡°Flesh does not sustain the nameless one for long. It only makes the beast hungrier.¡± Bromm twisted the metaphorical knife a little deeper with each word. ¡°Priestess Oreword charmed our homes, making it so the beast¡¯s song could not be heard from within our walls, but our defenses have only made the nameless one more desperate. For the first time in many millennia, it has abandoned its lair to snatch our citizens from the city itself.¡±

    Rasp interrupted. ¡°And this fabled Kriegaar of yours is supposed to swoop in and save you from nameless one, correct?¡±

    That¡¯s right. He had been paying attention.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well, how?¡± Not that Rasp intended to be the one to do the slaying, but he was mildly curious.

    ¡°We¡­¡± Bromm¡¯s voice trailed, before admitting with a resigned sigh, ¡°We don¡¯t know. All who have faced the creature have fallen. We don¡¯t even know what it looks like.¡±

    Naturally. How silly of Rasp to assume the cult had any idea how to make their hero¡¯s job slightly less difficult. It was not often that Rasp thought of Daana, especially not in the ¡®I wish she were here¡¯ capacity. But now was one of the few exceptions. She would have known immediately what sort of beasty they were dealing with. She might have even been able to tell him how to defeat it without all the cryptic beating around the bush that accompanied these types of conversations. Again, not that Rasp had any intention of being the one to defeat it. He was merely noting that such information would have been helpful, if not for him, than for the cult and any inevitable heroes suckered into helping.

    Pointing out how unrealistic their plan was probably wouldn¡¯t go over so well. Rasp tried a different approach, one often referred to by Faris as logic. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just leave then? The nameless one can¡¯t eat you if you¡¯re not here.¡±

    ¡°You speak blasphemy, sir! This is our ancestral home! We have been here since the beginning, from before the floods and the outsiders and¡ª¡±

    Priestess Oreword came to Rasp¡¯s rescue once more. While he didn¡¯t understand a lick of what either of them were saying, Rasp did notice how the priestess¡¯s cadence lacked the theatrics she had used back at the tower. She sounded like a regular person and not some power-hungry zealot with a desperate audience clinging to every word.

    ¡°Priestess Oreword believes the Kriegaar is a member of your group.¡± Bromm switched back to the common tongue without warning. ¡°The issue is¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re half dead?¡± Rasp ventured. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s been a problem for us too, lately. I¡¯m afraid Whisper¡¯s really not in any shape to battling monsters.¡± All joking aside, it was rather lousy when the person responsible for your training kept nearly dying all of the time.

    ¡°Priestess Oreword is a healer.¡±

    A glimmer of hope broke through, like a ray of sunshine on an overcast day. Naturally, Rasp¡¯s first instinct was to be wary of it. ¡°What kind of healer?¡± He knew the priestess was magical. Her power buzzed so strongly it made his skin itch, as though he was covered in invisible ants. ¡°Are we talking magic healer or the kind that¡¯s only good for terrible tasting tonics?¡±

    ¡°She can remove the hex currently exacerbating the Kriegaar¡¯s illness. The priestess will return them to their former strength, but she cannot remove the poisoning itself. Your companion will still succumb to their illness. Priestess Oreword will only be providing them more time.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t what Rasp wanted to hear, but it was certainly better than nothing. A functional Whisper was better than a dead one. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose the priestess is willing to do this out of the kindness of her heart?¡±

    ¡°Priestess Oreword offers a trade. The health of you and your companions in exchange for defeating the monster.¡±

    It would have been really nice had another member of Rasp¡¯s crew been present to offer advice. Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t possible, not with the rest of the team currently out of action. Which meant the honor was all his. Might as well make it worth his while.

    ¡°How do I know your priestess is capable?¡± Rasp asked.

    Bromm took the bait, as expected. ¡°You dare question the competence of Priestess Oreword?¡±

    Rasp raised his hands innocently. ¡°Talk is cheap, that¡¯s all I¡¯m saying. Maybe if she was willing to prove her mettle first¡± ¡ª he wiggled his injured foot for emphasis and immediately regretted it. Searing pain shot up his swollen leg, causing the rest of his sentence to issue in the form of a gasp ¡ª ¡°I might be more inclined to talk the Kriegaar into agreeing?¡±

 212 - Easy Peasy

    Alright, play it cool. You have them right where you want them. Rasp took a breath to settle his galloping heartbeat, mindful to keep the excitement welling within his chest from bleeding over into his expression. He reached over and gave Father¡¯s feathery head a few loving pets to steady his nerves. Disgusted by the open show of affection, Father suddenly decided he didn¡¯t care whether or not his son lived and flew off elsewhere.

    ¡°Love you too, Dad!¡±

    Fortunately, the dwarf translator, Bromm, was still too upset from having his priestess¡¯s magical competence called into question to ask whose father Rasp was professing his love for. He considered his approach a few painful seconds more before asking, ¡°You want Priestess Oreword to prove herself, is that what this is?¡±

    As far as fiddles went, Bromm was proving quite easy to play. The translator¡¯s unwavering devotion to his priestess was also his greatest weakness. Rasp took secret delight in pushing that particular sore spot over, and over, and over again until he got what wanted. ¡°Look, no offense, but blind faith just doesn¡¯t come natural to me, alright? Saying she can heal and doing it are two very different things. I¡¯ve learned to be skeptical of everyone until they prove otherwise.¡±

    ¡°You may as well spit in her face!¡± Bromm was getting worked up into a tizzy. Still positioned near the center of the room, the angry dwarf slowly edged a step closer with each word out of Rasp¡¯s insolent mouth. ¡°Who are you to make demands of us?¡±

    Rasp merely shrugged. ¡°I said ¡®no offense¡¯.¡±

    Priestess Oreword took offense anyway. Rasp could tell from the way her hand locked onto his swollen ankle the moment Bromm finished his angry translation. Rasp yelped as he fell from his inclined position and struck the straw mattress with a padded slam. His leg seized up. Every muscle locked into place, stretched taut. The cramping moved higher until his lower half was completely engulfed in phantom fire.

    He wanted to thrash. Every survival instinct in his body commanded him to fight the agony coursing through his battered limbs, but he couldn¡¯t. Rasp stared up at the gloomy ceiling as helpless as the day he was born. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, unable to pull air into his shriveled lungs. Through the haze of debilitating pain, he caught the sound of rhythmic chanting. It sounded further away than it should have.

    Rasp lost his grip on reality as the room started to spin. The salty fumes of the tallow candle intermixed with the smoke and crushed flowers from the priestess¡¯s musty clothes. His body suddenly felt light. Panicked, he gripped the straw mattress with all the strength in his trembling hands, certain he was about to lift clear into the air. The dark, muddled corners of his vision knitted together as the only source of light faded. Just as he was about to lose consciousness altogether, the whirling stopped.

    Weight returned to his body and Rasp slammed back down onto the mattress. His eyes were still open, he realized, as the dim light of the tallow candle banished the darkness back to its shadowy corners. For what felt like the first time in minutes, his lungs inflated, allowing him to draw breath. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow. Rasp moved to wipe it away only to discover the skin on his forehead was blazingly hot.

    Priestess Oreword produced a barking laugh as she patted his injured ankle. She was talking again, too, but Rasp was too distracted by the absence of pain to pay any attention. Gathering his courage, he wiggled his toes and braced himself, expecting to feel the agonized sting of a thousand fire ants biting him all at once. To his surprise, he felt nothing at all.

    ¡°Are you convinced?¡± Bromm asked smugly.

    ¡°I think so,¡± Rasp croaked.

    Rasp eased into a sitting position and drew his leg closer. A quick examination confirmed that the swelling was gone. The cuts inflicted by the carnivorous vines had vanished, leaving his skin whole and unblemished. Seven realms, he wasn¡¯t even sore any more! This was good. He could work with this. Once the rest of the group was healed, they could pretend to go looking for the beasty and then cut and run the moment the opportunity presented itself.

    The other end of the straw mattress lifted as Priestess Oreword stood and moved for the door.

    ¡°Come with us,¡± Bromm said to Rasp.

    Rasp swung his legs over the side of the bed hesitantly. Not because he was afraid the pain might return the moment he stood, but because he had a general dislike of being told what to do. ¡°You¡¯re not taking me to go kill the nameless one right now are you?¡±

    Of course not,¡± Bromm scoffed. ¡°You are not the Kriegaar. You could not possibly kill the monster on your own.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence. I appreciate that, truly.¡± Rasp remained seated just in case. ¡°Mind telling me where we¡¯re going then?¡±

    ¡°The Priestess requires your assistance with the Kriegaar.¡± The dwarf translator paused, either unsure how to phrase the sentence or simply out of reluctance to utter it aloud. ¡°They have¡­disappeared.¡±

    Rasp shot to his feet. ¡°What?¡±

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°We need your help locating them.¡±

    ¡°Alright, you heard the man, Dad. Let¡¯s go.¡± Rasp stormed his way across the room, bumping into several pieces of solid furniture in the process, and locked arms with Bromm. The dwarf was fast, Rasp had to give him that. Bromm slipped his grip and stepped out of reach with the speed and reflexes of someone not shaped like boulder.

    Bromm¡¯s voice dripped with both suspicion and disgust. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Rasp extended his hand in what he hoped passed for a less hostile approach. ¡°I can¡¯t see. If you expect me to go with you, then someone¡¯s going to have to lead me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re blind.¡± Bromm said this as a statement, not a question, in the sort of tone that implied several unspoken questions had suddenly been answered. All save for one, that was. ¡°Is that why you leapt off a three story balcony?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah. That¡¯s why I did that.¡±

    Rasp flinched when an arm strung through his from the other side and pulled him close. The cloud of fetid tobacco smoke wafting from the clothes told him it was the priestess. While her bent, blurry form implied that she was old, possibly frail, the strength in which she was holding him to her side seemed to indicate the exact opposite.

    With a single command, she started back towards the doorway, pulling Rasp with her. Father took up his customary perch on Rasp¡¯s shoulder and muttered nervously under his breath as the priestess opened the door. The adjoining hallway was unlike any Rasp had ever encountered before. Being that he was in the company of dwarfs and miles underground, he¡¯d expected to traverse along a dark, gloomy tunnel system.

    Whatever the space was around him, it wasn¡¯t that. While the smells were what Rasp expected ¡ª wet, musty, and stale ¡ª the hallway was obnoxiously bright. The surrounding walls shimmered in a sea of twinkling blues and greens. He didn¡¯t dare touch it to confirm his suspicions, but he felt confident to assume that the surrounding light source was another trick of bioluminescent algae. It was ten times brighter than the stuff he¡¯d encountered within the ruined city.

    He shielded his eyes as he clung helplessly to the priestess, vaguely aware that they had turned a corner. ¡°Gods, it¡¯s bright!¡±

    ¡°I thought you were blind,¡± Bromm said from where he walked behind them.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way,¡± Rasp huffed, slightly peeved that he was still having to explain this to people. It wasn¡¯t that hard of a concept to grasp! ¡°Blindness isn¡¯t always an all or nothing. I can differentiate light from dark. Shapes too, if they¡¯re close enough.¡±

    ¡°But not balconies.¡±

    Father cackled, prompting the heat already burning its way across Rasp¡¯s face to sting just a tad hotter. Before Rasp could snap back with something he¡¯d regret, Bromm went ahead and explained the purpose of the shimmering walls. ¡°The light helps deter the monster.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the only thing the light was deterring. Rasp could already feel the telltale throb of a migraine start to pulse behind his eyes. Hopefully their little detour through the bright-as-fuck passageways would be over soon. In the meantime, he¡¯d have to find a way to distract himself. Maybe even learn a thing or two.

    ¡°So,¡± he said, twisting his head this way and that in order to listen to the echo of his voice. The sound didn¡¯t travel far, suggesting the walls were narrower than the surrounding light made them seem. He raised his hand over his head and brushed the ceiling. It was like touching fish eggs covered in thick mucus. Stifling a gag, Rasp withdrew his hand from the ceiling and wiped his fingers clean against the priestess¡¯s robe ¡ª silently delighted to discover the area he touched glowed with the same light as the walls. ¡°You mind explaining how you lost the Kriegaar?¡±

    Apparently it was a bit of a sore subject given the translator¡¯s reluctant huff. ¡°The vessel in which you were using to transport the Kriegaar¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fancy way of saying pack, but sure.¡±

    ¡°The guards did not want to disturb the mighty one, so they placed the Kriegaar¡¯s pack in a sealed room and left them be. Priestess Oreword arrived to discover that the Kriegaar was no longer within the pack at all.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s voice had a bit of a screech to it. ¡°You lost Whisper? Like lost-lost?¡±

    The priestess muttered something, giving Rasp¡¯s arm an extra ungentle tug as she continued leading him on through the damp, green and blue hallway.

    ¡°We believe the Kriegaar is still in the room,¡± Bromm said. ¡°Just not in the same state as they were before.¡±

    ¡°Okay, now you¡¯ve lost me.¡±

    Bromm heaved a heavy sigh before admitting everything he had hoped to leave unsaid. ¡°Priestess Oreword believes your companion is a shapeshifter. They were in a living form when we first encountered them, and now they are not.¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t think he was following along in the way he was meant to. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell me they¡¯re in a dead form.¡±

    Bromm¡¯s gravely voice had quite the edge to it. ¡°Do you know anything about fae?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t speak for the species as a whole, but I do know this one in particular is a conniving little shit who doesn¡¯t delve too deep into the personal stuff. So yes, and no, at the same time.¡±

    ¡°Traveling with one of the mightiest beings in existence and he doesn¡¯t even know it,¡± Bromm muttered under his breath with what might have been a disgusted shake of his head. Fortunately, the dwarf took it upon himself to educate the ignorant. ¡°Fae are capable of adopting inanimate forms, usually only as a last result. Without senses, they are blind to their surroundings. They fall into a state of stasis and can remain dormant for eons.¡±

    Whisper, you clever bastard.

    It took all of Rasp¡¯s willpower not to laugh out loud. Even weak and dying, Whisper still found a way to disrupt the plans others made on their behalf. ¡°So one of the objects in my pack isn¡¯t an object at all. Which means Whisper¡¯s not actually missing, you just don¡¯t know what form they¡¯ve taken.¡±

    ¡°Yes. We believe the Kriegaar is using their glamour as a cloaking mechanism. The priestess is unable to distinguish them from the other items housed within the pack.¡±

    The corners of Rasp¡¯s mouth curled into a smile. ¡°How unfortunate for you.¡±

    ¡°It will be your misfortune as well if the Kriegaar is not recovered soon. Your friend is too weak to awaken without the priestess¡¯s intervention.¡± Bromm let that revelation sink in for a moment before neatly steering the conversation back in the direction he wished it to go. ¡°Priestess Oreword senses a bond between the two of you. Locating the Kriegaar is something you should be able to do, yes?¡±

    Maybe? Only one way to find out, Rasp supposed. ¡°Oh, sure. Absolutely. Should be easy-peasy.¡±

 213 - Celebratory Biting

    He couldn¡¯t believe it, his captors had gone and lost Whisper. Rasp would¡¯ve been a little more forgiving had they¡¯d simply misplaced the little cuss, but no, they¡¯d lost-lost his fae mentor. The cult didn¡¯t even know whether or not the sneaky bastard was still under their roof. Not to mention the whole tall tale regarding fae being able to transform into non-living objects. That was probably just some excuse to shift the blame onto Rasp once the finger pointing started.

    Gods, he wished Faris was here right now. This seemed like the sort of bargaining chip Faris would use to leverage the situation back in their favor. Without his best friend to elbow him in the gut to keep him from saying something stupid, however, Rasp feared this was a prospective bargaining chip he didn¡¯t know what to do with.

    Don¡¯t overcomplicate it. Stick to the plan, his thoughts cut in. Focus on getting everyone healed. And then, when the cult has lowered their guard, you¡¯re gonna book it back to the surface as fast as you can and put all this behind you.

    Rasp imagined Faris would have come up with something more eloquent. But Faris wasn¡¯t here and, therefore, this plan was as good as it was going to get.

    ¡°Easy-peasy?¡± Bromm rumbled, repeating Rasp¡¯s words slowly, as though he was saying them for the first time. ¡°I am unfamiliar with that expression.¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, it¡¯s kinda like ¡®piece of cake¡¯.¡±

    ¡°What is like a piece of cake?¡±

    Once more, for what would neither be the first nor last time, Rasp remembered the rest of the mortal world was woefully behind on human phrases. Normally he would have delighted at the opportunity to pass down horrifically incorrect idioms, but now didn¡¯t seem like the best time to spread misinformation.

    ¡°I meant finding Whisper would be easy, okay? Sorry for the confusion.¡± Rasp moved head from side to side, trying to make out something other than the nauseatingly bright glow of the bioluminescent algae. ¡°Are we almost there? Feels like we¡¯ve been walking forever.¡±

    Bromm was like a dog with a bone, unwilling to give it up so easily. ¡°You say locating the Kriegaar will be easy for you, but you do not sound certain.¡±

    Uncertainty, unlike idioms, apparently crossed the cultural barrier without issue. Rasp blew a sigh out of the corner of his mouth, admitting, ¡°You¡¯re asking a blind man to sift through a bag of trinkets to find the one that isn¡¯t an actual trinket. Excuse me for being a little apprehensive about it.¡±

    Such a task would¡¯ve been undeniably easier had Rasp not been looting his way through the realm. He wasn¡¯t sure what sort of hole he¡¯d been trying to fill, but stolen bits and bobs helped soothe the ache, temporarily anyway. The loot went into his bag, the hurt eased, and Rasp swore to never do it again ¡ª at least until the next opportunity presented itself. It¡¯d gotten to the point where he no longer paid attention to what he was stealing. His poor decisions, as they were wont to do, had come back to bite him in the ass. Trying to decipher what was stolen goods versus what was an unconscious fae cloaking its magic was going to be interesting.

    Priestess Oreword pulled Rasp to a stop without warning, allowing Bromm to shoulder past. The familiar jingle of iron keys echoed along the surrounding stone before another heavy door drew open.

    The chamber was unfathomably dark. A fact Rasp never thought he¡¯d be grateful for. The stale air grew colder as he passed through the doorway, noting how the flooring underfoot had shifted from crude rock to set tiles. There was something else about the room too. Something that set his senses on edge. The hairs on his arms raised on end in a manner that felt unrelated to the cold. A familiar sensation buzzed at the tip of each finger as he traveled deeper into the chamber.

    His memory flashed back to the night he, Hop, and Whisper had spent within the ghost village, and how it had felt to be near a harmony stone. This was similar, but ten times stronger. He didn¡¯t dare switch to his aura vision for fear of what he might see. The sheer power emitting from within the room would have been too much for his fragile sixth sense to take in.

    Father must have felt it too because the superstitious old codger leapt off Rasp¡¯s shoulder and fluttered back out the door, wishing Rasp a painless death.

    Un-fucking-believable. Rasp bit back every colorful expletive dancing on his curled tongue and gritted out a question directed at Bromm instead. ¡°Is there a harmony stone in here?¡±

    ¡°Yes. This chamber is a hallowed place of worship,¡± Bromm said, sealing the heavy door behind them. ¡°Priestess Oreword thought the stone¡¯s presence would help the Kriegaar feel at ease.¡±

    Ease was the last thing Rasp felt. He unlinked arms with the priestess and shuffled sideways until he found the wall with his outstretched hand. It was comprised of polished stone with unidentifiable markings etched along its surface. ¡°Your nameless beastie reached me through one of these stones. What¡¯s to stop it from using this one?¡±

    ¡°The chamber is charmed. The nameless one¡¯s power cannot reach here.¡±

    That made Rasp feel slightly better. He was still tracing the charms etched into the stone walls when Bromm¡¯s heavy footsteps approached from behind. Rasp turned the same moment a familiar pack was shoved into his open arms.

    ¡°Retrieve the Kriegaar,¡± Bromm said.

    ¡°You got a table or something I could work at? I mean, I could dump all this on the floor if you want, but that seems a tad unnecessary.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Grumbling beneath his breath, the male dwarf took Rasp by the arm and led him to the far side of the room. Rasp made the mistake of not halting when his escort did and slammed his hip into a piece of heavy furniture. Gritting his teeth, he explored the area with his free hand, determining the object in question was a ceremonial table of some sort, fitted with a linen, unlit candles, and a pot of incense.

    Rasp set the pack onto the low table and began sorting its contents. He set the known items aside ¡ª his extra socks, gloves, and hat all went into a pile beside him, as did the tooth brush and tin cup, bowl, and folding knives. To his dismay, he didn¡¯t find any scraps of food as he rummaged through the remaining items. Maybe that was a good thing. He wouldn¡¯t have put it past Whisper to disguise themself as a piece of jerky. An interesting way to go though, eaten by your errant pupil.

    Only a handful of items remained. A smattering of jewelry he¡¯d probably pocketed with the intention of hocking the next time they were in a town; Faris¡¯s coin purse ¡ª which he didn¡¯t recall taking but wasn¡¯t out of the realm of possibility; and a bundle wrapped in cloth. Rasp placed the others off to the side as he unraveled the cloth with painstaking care. He felt a spark the moment he touched the object within. Rasp shook his head in disbelief as he ran his fingers from the base of the weighted pommel all the way to the tip of the dagger. Leave it to Whisper to transform into the one object he would grab in the heat of the moment.

    Is this really you? Rasp inquired.

    The dagger didn¡¯t respond. Either Whisper truly had fallen into a deep state of stasis or Rasp was simply the idiot talking to an inanimate object. He twirled the knife between his fingers, hoping today of all days wasn¡¯t the one he finally lost his pinky by being a show-off. ¡°I think this is it,¡± he said. ¡°So now what?¡±

    Bromm sounded further away than he¡¯d previously been. Likely due to the fact that Rasp was now openly wielding a weapon. ¡°I will deliver the Kriegaar to Priestess Oreword.¡±

    Bromm still wasn¡¯t making any effort to inch closer. Rasp suspected he knew why. With a sigh, he flipped the knife around and offered it hilt-first.

    ¡°I would prefer it if you set it down, actually.¡± Bromm added, mimicking the phrase Rasp had used earlier that day, ¡°No offense.¡±

    ¡°Offense taken.¡± Rasp lowered the blade onto the table and stepped away. For being fake, it sure felt like a damn good knife ¡ª well honed with a good grip and evenly balanced. If he wasn¡¯t partially convinced that the blade wasn¡¯t a fae trick, he would have considered keeping it. A myriad of intrusive questions flooded Rasp¡¯s thoughts as he sought the wall, giving Bromm space to work.

    Could he even kill with a knife that wasn¡¯t actually a knife? He thought back to all of those times when he and Whisper had gotten cornered in and how a decent sword would have made all the difference. Had his trainer been holding out on him all this time? Maybe if they both survived what was to come Rasp would get his chance to ask. Along with all sorts of other intrusive things such as: is it limited just to knives? Could you shapeshift into other inanimate objects? Like money? Could I use you to buy a decent cart? Wait, wait, wait, what if we make you the cart?

    Bromm collected the dagger and moved back across the room with it. Rasp heard the strike of a match a split second before a pale yellow light sprang to life. The flame moved downwards, igniting a cluster of candles that had been arranged onto the floor. Priestess Oreword lit a pot of incense as well, filling the chamber with a stifling cloud of sage, yarrow, and mugwort leaves.

    The unholy combination of dried herbs and tallow candles caused Rasp¡¯s eyes to water. The stench wormed its way up his nose, into his mouth, and down his throat, filling his lungs until those too burned with irritation. Rasp tugged his shirt over his nose and through his mouth, fighting the sudden urge to dry heave.

    If nothing else, at least the light from candles allowed him to make out what was taking place across from him. Sort of, anyway. Priestess Oreword¡¯s hazy shape knelt amongst her collection of candles. Her shadowy head bobbed up and down as she chanted. Her words were soft at first, but grew in volume until the entire chamber echoed with her spell. An icy prickle ran down the back of Rasp¡¯s neck as the priestess¡¯s power filled the room. Her magic was like a vacuum, pulling in every shred of warmth until the chamber was as cold as a root cellar in the dead of winter.

    Her chanting crescendoed as the yellow candles danced and flickered around her. An icy wind whipped across Rasp¡¯s face, bringing fresh tears to his eyes. As otherworldly as it was to feel a breeze within a fully enclosed room, he took it as a promising sign. Whisper¡¯s power was returning. Already, Rasp could see the yellow light of the candles had taken on a blue tint. The blue grew, until the entire room danced in its eerie glow.

    A burst of magic erupted at the center of the priestess¡¯s circle. Crackling, the electric blue glowed bright as day before it went out with a hiss, extinguishing the candles in a dramatic flourish. Aside from some coughing from the priestess, the area was deathly quiet. Rasp leaned forward, attempting to assess what was going on.

    He jumped in surprise when he felt tiny clawed feet scramble up his leg and onto his shoulder. A familiar furry body coiled itself around his neck. What have you done now?

    You mean besides saving your miserable life? Gods, you¡¯d think his mentor would be just a little bit more grateful to be alive and restored to good health. But no, straight into the accusations they went.

    You didn¡¯t save my life, little bird. She did.

    Does it really matter who did what? It was my idea, okay? Relax and let me handle this. Now that you¡¯re back to your old cheery self, we can get the fuck out of here.

    Yes! It very much matters!

    Rasp, taken aback by Whisper¡¯s unexpected anger, grew quiet. Obviously he¡¯d messed up somewhere. He just failed to see how or when it had happened.

    With a heavy sigh, Whisper kindly filled in the missing blanks for him. By removing the hex, little bird, I have now incurred a life debt. A life debt that I do not owe to you, but to the one who saved me.

    Oh fuck. He¡¯d forgotten all about the stupid rules fae had to adhere to. Rasp was aware that the dwarfs were watching them. He could feel their eyes locked on him, attempting to decipher what was happening. It was for this reason he continued to communicate through thought. Okay, but does she know that?

    It does not matter if she knows or not. My magic is bound to her until the debt is repaid.

    ¡°Fuck!¡±

    What did you promise them in exchange for removing the hex?

    So, long story, but they think you¡¯re the fabled warrior meant to save them from the nameless monster terrorizing their home.

    For fuck¡¯s sake. You brought me back from the dead just to watch me die again? What were you thinking?

    I was thinking, ¡®gee, it sure would be a shame if the person I am depending upon to teach me things up and dies!¡¯ I mean, you¡¯re alive now, aren¡¯t you? Shouldn¡¯t that be something to celebrate?

    In lieu of a reply, Rasp felt a set of needled teeth latch onto his neck. He slapped at the weasel curled around his shoulders, squawking, ¡°Biting is not how we celebrate!¡±

 214 - Practice Makes Perfect

    The old saying ¡®practice makes perfect¡¯ was a bald faced lie and whoever invented it deserved to be drawn and quartered. Practice did, in fact, not make perfect. Not when the practice involved forcing one¡¯s body through a cramped tunnel system made for those of a significantly smaller stature. In this case, practice meant prolonged torture because, no matter which way Oralia contorted her body, her aching joints protested by seizing up on her at every inconvenient opportunity.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Briony¡¯s disembodied voice echoed along the tunnel from up ahead.

    ¡°I did not say anything,¡± Oralia managed through gritted teeth.

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I heard you muttering something under your breath. Was it ¡®I hate this, I hate this, I hate this¡¯ again? Or have you already moved on to something more colorful?¡±

    The yellow light provided by Briony¡¯s lantern glowed faintly from beyond the next bend. It didn¡¯t move, which meant the little faun had stopped to wait for her. Oralia watched the light as she wormed her way through the tight passage, praying Briony stayed where she was and didn¡¯t backtrack in her direction. Coated in sheen of sweat and dirt, with her shoulders wedged tight against the narrow walls, Oralia was a sight too humiliating to behold.

    ¡°Must be a trick of the senses.¡± Oralia unwedged one shoulder with great difficulty. She sank lower to the ground and crawled forward on her stomach, inching her way free one arm length at a time. ¡°That is known to happen deep underground. They say your senses start to turn on you.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re twenty feet below the surface,¡± Briony snorted.

    Briony¡¯s information only added insult to injury. A meager stretch of dirt was all that stood between Oralia and her ability to walk unobstructed. How utterly cruel. And yet, ditching the underground tunnel system in favor of walking would have come with its own problems. Immediate arrest and or death, namely. As those options were slightly less favorable to crawling on her hands and knees, Oralia grudgingly stuck to the low, cramped passages of Lonebrook¡¯s underground tunnels.

    With one last twist, Oralia freed her upper body from the narrow passage and dragged herself, hand over hand, until the tunnel widened enough for her to change positions. She gathered her stiff legs beneath her and rose. She staggered along with her head bent down to avoid scraping the ceiling, mindful not to brush the walls as she walked. Walking with a hunch certainly beat crawling on her belly, but not by much.

    The yellow glow of Briony¡¯s lantern grew brighter as Oralia rounded the final corner. ¡°You made it,¡± the faun congratulated. ¡°For a moment there I was worried I was going to have to dig you out.¡±

    Oralia ran a calloused hand over her warm forehead, groaning, ¡°Have I told you how much I hate this?¡±

    ¡°Repeatedly,¡± Briony said. ¡°Which is usually when I remind you that you didn¡¯t have to come. You could have sent one of the others.¡±

    ¡°I find the best way to know what is truly going on is to see it for myself.¡± It was a poor excuse and Oralia knew it.

    As did Briony, judging from the slow shake of her horns. ¡°Right.¡± The brown and tan faun started walking again. ¡°You¡¯re here because you were the best one for the job. Definitely doesn''t have anything to do with that makeshift army you¡¯ve got holed up at my place, all sitting on their hands, waiting for you to tell them what to do.¡±

    ¡°Army?¡± It was Oralia¡¯s turn to scoff. ¡°We barely have the numbers to qualify as an angry rabble.¡±

    It had been a week since Lingon and Rali left to solicit help from their closest neighbors. Oralia had not yet heard from either, but she herself was making minor progress elsewhere. Like Briony, there were others that lived on the outskirts of the village and had managed to escape the realm¡¯s net. They were mostly farmers and a few woodsmen, but Oralia was not in a position to be picky. She accepted whatever help was offered.

    Down to just two trained fighters, Oralia had left Mul and Dewpetal in charge of drills while she went with Briony to investigate the structure being erected in the village square. No one had been able to confirm what it was so far. Worse yet, Briony¡¯s primary contact, a woodcutter by the name of Ellery, had failed to make their last meeting. With rumors circulating and their usual contacts haven fallen eerily silent, Oralia decided it was time she and Briony investigated the matter themselves ¡ª even if it meant doing so from a distance.

    There were no markers underground to offer direction, but it was of no matter to Briony. She walked with the sort of confidence that suggested she could have found her way through the intricate tunnel systems with her eyes closed. After a few more disorientating twists and turns, the faun stopped at the base of a wooden ladder, announcing they¡¯d arrived at their final destination.

    ¡°Ready to breathe fresh air again?¡± the faun asked in what might have been a halfhearted attempt at positive motivation.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Oralia kept her thoughts to herself as she eyed the exit warily. She¡¯d developed a deep distrust of rickety ladders since having arrived in Lonebrook, and this one¡¯s half-rotted appearance was doing little to put her fears aside.

    ¡°Seen that look before.¡± Briony hung the lantern from the hook on the wall for safekeeping before starting the climb. ¡°The usual system, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please. And thank you.¡± Oralia watched the faun¡¯s stocky form scurry up the ladder with a nimbleness that was typically reserved for squirrels. Their ¡®usual system¡¯ involved keeping Oralia¡¯s feet safely planted on solid ground until absolutely necessary. Briony would ascend first, throw open the hatch, and then signal for her once confirming the area above was clear.

    The imitated coo of a ringneck dove indicated that Briony had accomplished her portion of the system faster than usual. Oralia tried not to take issue with that as she slung one heavy foot onto the lowest rung of the ladder and tested her weight against it. Despite its decrepit appearance, the wood held strong. With her fortune, it would remain intact until about the halfway mark. Maybe a little higher if she was truly lucky.

    ¡°You will not drop, you will not drop, you will not drop,¡± she repeated to herself as she climbed, not entirely sure if she was speaking to herself or the ladder. Heights had never bothered her much before, but the combination of tall ladders, tight spaces, and being stuck underground seemed to have taken its toll on her formerly steely nerves. The fact that she stood to lose more than just her own life in the event of a fall likely had something to do with it as well.

    Not the time, she told her brain. For the first time in forever, her mind obeyed and all thoughts concerning the growing life inside of her were dutifully shoved aside. Climbing was Oralia¡¯s sole focus. Gradually, one rung after another, she hauled her worn body all the way to the top and through the narrow hatch at the end.

    Oralia¡¯s efforts were rewarded by the cool kiss of fresh air and waning sunlight.

    ¡°I commend your lack of cursing.¡± Her cheeky companion greeted her arrival with a smirk.

    ¡°It helped that the ladder maintained its structural integrity this time.¡± A thick carpet of moss and wet grass lined the forest floor at their feet. Oralia briefly considered flopping down and allowing the dampness to cool her overheated skin. Alas, with the sun already dipping beyond the horizon, there simply wasn¡¯t time. Not to mention that Briony would never take Oralia seriously again if she succumbed to such childish impulses.

    ¡°Ready?¡± the faun said.

    Oralia tore her gaze from the inviting ground with a nod of her head. ¡°Ready.¡±

    Briony plucked a blade of grass and chewed it as she assumed the lead once more. Unlike Oralia, the faun had no difficulty finding her way through a forest where every tree looked damn near identical to its neighbors. Oralia stuck close, knowing she¡¯d never find her way out again if she were to lose her guide. They were a ways outside of town, using the surrounding woods for cover. The realm patrols didn¡¯t venture far from the main road anymore ¡ª likely due to the fact that whenever someone did, they never returned.

    ¡°It took me a while to find this place,¡± Briony whispered as she walked. Even without the threat of eavesdroppers, whispering seemed to be the sensible thing to do. ¡°One of the original founders of the village used to live there. The eccentric type, apparently. Over the generations the family gave up on maintaining the place and moved elsewhere. Wildfire took out the main structures, but the old pigeon tower is still standing.¡±

    ¡°The what tower?¡±

    ¡°Pigeon tower.¡± Briony shrugged. ¡°I told you, eccentrics. Anyway, there¡¯s a stairway built into the outside that leads to the roof. Seemed stable enough.¡±

    ¡°Briony, I mean this in the best way, but I do not think I have ever met a faun like you.¡±

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    The two-faced lying, smuggling, and callus killing immediately sprang to mind. Fauns were supposed to be a peaceful species. They came to war when the horns called, sure, but most didn¡¯t have the stomach for bloodshed. Even Faris, whom Oralia had come to know over their time together, looked like he would have rather been just about anywhere else most of the time. Not Briony, though. She seemed quite content to be right smack dab in the middle of danger.

    That felt entirely too personal to share so Oralia offered something more practical. ¡°It was my understanding that fauns avoid heights and yet, here you are, climbing crumbling towers without hesitation.¡±

    ¡°Climbed?¡± Briony twisted her head around at Oralia, still chewing the blade of grass sticking out of the corner of her mouth. ¡°I didn¡¯t say I climbed the damn thing. Oh no, no, no. I just threw a bunch of rocks at it.¡±

    ¡°...You threw rocks at it?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Didn¡¯t fall, either. Means it¡¯s stable, right?¡±

    Oralia¡¯s eyes grew wide as her heavy footsteps slowed to a stop. It had taken all manner of reassurance to convince Sascha not to accompany her on the scouting mission. Climbing an ancient pigeon tower seemed like the sort of thing he would have put his foot down over. Was this a lost cause? Would it have been better to turn back now, before curiosity got the better of her? Gods dammit, she¡¯d gone all this way, too! So many miles of crawling underground all for no¡ª

    ¡°Oralia.¡± Briony¡¯s voice took on a serious nature. ¡°That was a joke.¡±

    ¡°It was?¡± She failed to see the humor in the jest, but that may not have been the humor¡¯s fault.

    ¡°I was making a jab at you. Of course I tested the stairs. How else would I have known we could see the village square from the top?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Gods, it was times like these that Oralia yearned for her old team. Even if she didn¡¯t understand the joke, someone would explain it to her. Eventually. Perhaps Briony would be kind enough to extend a similar courtesy. ¡°What is humorous about falling through crumbling stairs?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wound so tight, is all. I was just trying to loosen some of¡± ¡ª Briony made a vague gesture with her fingers in Oralia¡¯s direction ¡ª ¡°this.¡±

    Think of a joke. Think of a joke. Think of a joke.

    ¡°Maybe I like it tight.¡±

    Fuck. Not that one.

 215 - A Statement

    Oralia had never been successful at joke-telling. Her sense of comedic timing and ability to ad lib on the spot were not so much undeveloped as they were nonexistent. It didn¡¯t help that on the few occasions she ventured out of her comfort zone, her efforts were rarely recognized as humor. Today was the exception. For what might have been the first time in her life, Oralia not only delivered a joke with the appropriate timing, but somehow managed to stick the landing as well.

    Not in the way she intended, of course.

    ¡®Maybe I like it tight.¡¯ Good gods, Oralia! Could you have said anything any worse had you tried?

    Unfortunately, it was too late to take it back. Briony had already heard. The faun¡¯s upper teeth were sunk deep into her lower lip in an attempt to stifle the snorts of laughter bubbling up from within her chest. Briony¡¯s willpower gave out almost immediately and she doubled over, holding her sides as tears streamed down her face.

    If nothing else, at least Sascha would get a kick out of it later. Provided Oralia recovered enough of her dignity to tell him, that is. With a strained smile that said ¡®yes, I know what I just said and I undisputedly meant it, too¡¯, Oralia stepped around Briony and continued onward. She had no idea where she was going, but far, far away seemed as good of a direction as any. Briony would compose herself in due time and correct their trajectory as needed. At least Oralia hoped so. Judging from the laughter growing fainter with each step, there was a chance Oralia would be traversing alone for the foreseeable future.

    Dammit.

    A mere matter of strides later and Oralia had already lost sight of her guide. She backtracked, forced to rely on her sense of sound to guide her. Briony was as Oralia had left her, still hunched in half, holding her sides as she shook with mirth.

    It wasn¡¯t that funny. Oralia folded her arms with a sigh. ¡°Are you coming or not? It will be nightfall soon.¡±

    Briony could barely stand on her quivering legs. She outstretched her arms in Oralia¡¯s direction, gasping, ¡°I can¡¯t walk. Carry me.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your fault!¡±

    ¡°Lower your voice.¡± Not necessarily because Oralia expected anyone to be out this far, but because doing so had the potential to end the conversation sooner.

    Still fighting a fit of giggles, Briony swung one cloven hoof in front of the other as she stumbled forward through the tangled undergrowth, drunk on mirth. ¡°You know,¡± she said, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. ¡°I think I¡¯m starting to see it now.¡±

    Silence, Oralia decided, was the only way forward. Perhaps if she refused to partake in the conversation, Briony would let it die a natural death.

    The little faun gave Oralia¡¯s forearm a reassuring pat as she staggered past. ¡°This whole time I¡¯ve been thinking you¡¯re some stuffy old battle-ax, but you have a fun side, don¡¯t you? Only, you like to pretend you don¡¯t. So you surround yourself with degenerates so nobody notices.¡±

    ¡°You got all of that from one bad joke?¡± Oh dear. The hormones raging through her system were making her transparent. Nobody had any right to be able to see through her so clearly. ¡°I think you may be reaching a little.¡±

    Briony plowed on ahead with a newly recovered sense of balance. ¡°Nope. I definitely see it now. There won¡¯t be putting you back in that box. One could almost say it¡¯s too tight for you now?¡±

    Oh, for the love of gods. Oralia followed Briony¡¯s path with a despairing shake of her head. ¡°I will not be living this down anytime soon, will I?¡±

    ¡°To be fair, I¡¯m just doing what I was told. Didn¡¯t expect it to be this fun, though. So I¡¯ve got that going for me, at least.¡±

    Doing what she was told? Oralia chewed on this as she ducked to avoid the low hanging bows of black spruce. The answer, she realized, was obvious. She uttered the name through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to slam her fist into the nearest tree. ¡°Ralizak.¡±

    ¡°She had concerns that without her around you would ¡ª now how did she put it? It was rather graphic, if I recall.¡±

    ¡°There is no need to share.¡±

    Briony did so anyway, with great relish. ¡°Reinsert the stick up your ass? Something along those lines, anyway.¡±

    What a lovely sentiment. Oralia would be sure to thank her lieutenant properly by demoting Rali the moment she returned. Unless of course Rali returned with an army, in which case Oralia would have to settle for a stern brow-beating. No, she could do better than that. Forget the demotion, Oralia would hit her where it really hurt: a promotion. It was perfect! Rali avoided responsibility at all costs. She would despise the extra authority with every delinquent bone in her body.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The surrounding landscape changed as Oralia followed her guide, silently plotting her revenge. The trees were shorter, as though they¡¯d regrown over the past decade or so. Remnants of hand-built structures started to crop up amongst the tangled overgrowth as well. A portion of a fence here, a moss-covered retaining wall there, a raised garden bed overrun with dandelions up ahead. The slope of the terrain shifted, rising into a steep fern-covered hill. They passed several skeletal remains of burnt buildings as they climbed ¡ª all of which were now rotted and adorned with a variety of moss and fungi.

    Oralia reached the top of the hill breathless from exertion. Much unlike Briony, who appeared utterly unaffected by the strenuous climb. The faun pointed across what might have once been a well-tended courtyard. ¡°There¡¯s our lookout point.¡±

    The stone pigeon tower was nearly indistinguishable from its dim surroundings thanks to a generous tangle of wild ivy. It was the only structure on the property untouched by ruin. Having withstood the test time, fire, and abandonment, the tower was a testament to its craftsmanship. As Oralia neared, throat tightening at the sight of the crumbling stone staircase that spiraled around the exterior, she hoped said craftsmanship could withstand the full weight of an orc as well.

    Briony ascended first. Her hooves scraped for traction against the worn stone as she moved up the spiraling staircase at a snail¡¯s pace. Oralia appreciated the lack of rush as it gave her the time necessary to consider each step carefully. The ivy was thick and slippery. A single misstep was all that separated her from a gruesome fall.

    The last of the waning light dipped beyond the western horizon and the sky grew dark. Patches of the star-speckled sky peeked through the interlaced canopy overhead. The moon was but a sliver. Its pale glow was too weak to light the way. Unequipped with night vision, Briony was forced to forfeit the lead at the halfway mark. Oralia took charge from there, offering both her hand and directions as needed.

    It wasn¡¯t until she¡¯d reached the final steps that Oralia realized there was no roof. The top of the pigeon tower had been left open to the elements, allowing for its feathery occupants to come and go freely. There was belvedere across from her, located on the opposite end, but the only way to reach it was via a narrow stone platform that jutted out precariously over the rim of the open aviary. It had possessed handrails at one point. Naturally, those had been worn away by the elements, much like the platform itself.

    Sensing Oralia¡¯s hesitation, Briony offered an uncharacteristic word of encouragement. ¡°It¡¯s not going to fall.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Was she stalling? Absolutely. But for good reason! Death by pigeon tower was such a stupidly memorable way to go. Oralia wanted to be remembered for her actions, good and bad, not for being the idiot who fell to their death after slipping on bird poo!

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Briony replied a little too honestly. She could have at least made something up to settle Oralia¡¯s nerves. ¡°But it hasn¡¯t fallen yet and we¡¯re not exactly flush with other options here.¡±

    Oralia still did not find this a good enough reason to sidle out onto the rickety platform of slippery death.

    ¡°Alright look, if you die, I¡¯ll spin a story, yeah? It wasn¡¯t a fall that got you, it was something better. More memorable. Death by bear mauling, or what have you.¡±

    Oddly, Briony¡¯s offer made her feel slightly better. That or the last of Oralia¡¯s sanity had finally thrown in the towel. Cautiously, one slow step at a time, she edged out across the platform, trying not to gag at the rancid smell emitting from the inside. It held strong, fortunately, allowing Oralia to reach the much sturdier belvedere on the other side. Briony made it across safely, too, in half the time it had taken Oralia.

    Oralia had to admit, putrid bird shit aside, the tower did make for an ideal lookout. Built atop one of the hills overlooking the village, she could make out each individual home situated in the valley below. Had there been sunlight to aid her vision, she might have even been able to count the number of guards patrolling the roadways. The village square stood out at its center, a distinct patch of nothing amongst a sea of straw-thatched roofs.

    Oralia extended her hand in Briony¡¯s direction expectantly. ¡°The spyglass?¡±

    The faun dutifully produced the item from the pouch strapped to her side. She hovered close, shifting her weight from one hoof to the other as she waited for Oralia¡¯s assessment. ¡°They¡¯d just started construction last time I was up here. Couldn¡¯t tell what it was then.¡±

    Oralia lifted the spyglass to her right eye. The village square came into focus, as did the structure erected at its center. Her stomach dropped.

    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡± All former traces of humor bled out from Briony¡¯s voice in an instant. ¡°I can tell by your face. What is it?¡±

    ¡°Gallows.¡± Not just a simple double post and beam setup, either. Someone had gone through the effort of constructing an elaborate design, complete with stairs, trapdoors, and enough space to execute a dozen prisoners at once. It was not any ordinary gallows, it was a statement from Geralt Lazuli himself and it said: I built this all for you.

    ¡°...But¡­but Ellery would have told me. He wouldn¡¯t have let this happen without¡­¡± Briony¡¯s words failed her, momentarily, before she picked up again, searching for an alternate explanation. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Briony.¡± Oralia collapsed the spy glass as the churning in her stomach doubled. The words were like hot bile on her tongue. ¡°There are two villagers hanging from it. One of which is Ellery.¡±

    ¡°Oh gods,¡± the faun whimpered, her voice barely a whisper.

    ¡°Did Ellery know about the tunnels?¡±

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t think so.¡± Briony lifted her trembling chin as tears streamed down her cheeks, searching Oralia¡¯s face with wild desperation. Briony¡¯s glassy eyes grew wide and rimmed in white. ¡°But he knew about my cottage.¡±

    The queasiness in Oralia¡¯s gut solidified into a cold lump of ice. Ellery may not have known about the tunnel systems, but it didn¡¯t matter how Briony was getting to and fro if there wasn¡¯t a safehouse to return to. Even trained soldiers cracked under the pressure of torture. There was no reason to expect an innocent villager to fare any better. The realm would have squeezed Ellery for every drop of information he possessed, including the location of their hideout.

    Briony was already scurrying back across the platform for the stairs. ¡°We need to get back! We have to warn the others before it¡¯s too late.¡±

 216 - Den Brother

    The harsh trill of a goblin pipe rang out across the endless expanse of empty flat land before the tune died away, carried off by the wind. Blessed silence returned. For a few lovely seconds, anyway, before the stupid pipe-player realized his message was being willfully ignored.

    ¡°Oi!¡± The stranger¡¯s reedy voice shouted over the shifting sway of the tundra grass, shrill enough to startle a flock of nesting birds from their evening roosts. ¡°You¡¯re seriously not going to answer, you greedy little prick? I¡¯m not going to let one measly orc get between me and my kin. Just you wait and see!¡±

    ¡°Kin?¡± Daana repeated in astonishment. Her brown eyes grew large and wide, like sad dinner plates with no munchies on them. The elf¡¯s accusing stare settled over Snag, pressing him closer to the ground under its weight. ¡°What¡¯s he mean by kin, Snag?¡±

    His instincts were to run, but that didn¡¯t seem very fair to either of his companions, both of whom were watching him like hungry hawks. Snag wrapped his bony arms around his leather cuirass and hugged himself tighter. It didn¡¯t do anything to alleviate the gnawing dread in his belly, but it kept him from diving head first into the surrounding grass for cover. That was something, surely.

    ¡°You misheard,¡± Snag explained. ¡°He said, uh, kitten.¡±

    ¡°Kinky,¡± Ashwyn said around a generous mouthful of stew. If she was troubled by the approaching goblins, she didn¡¯t show it. The orc seemed more concerned with scarfing down her dinner than the possibility of being held up by an entire den.

    Snag wished he had that kind of confidence.

    ¡°That makes absolutely no sense, Snag.¡± Daana persisted as the reddish tinge in her cheeks spread to her pointed ears. ¡°He clearly said kin, not kitten. Is that a member of your family out there?¡±

    The reedy voice rang out once more. ¡°I¡¯m heading your way, you impudent little wretch!¡±

    Snag wished the ground would split open and gobble him whole. Or maybe it could take the approaching goblin instead. Yeah, that would be better. Two stones, one turkey sort of thing, or however that nonsensical human saying went. The voice emitting from between Snag¡¯s tightly clenched teeth was odd in that it didn¡¯t sound like his own. It was as if he¡¯d swallowed a tiny goblin and it was speaking from the lump currently lodged in his throat.

    ¡°Tell him I¡¯m not here.¡±

    Dried grass crunched underfoot as someone stomped purposefully in their direction. Daana had her head tilted to the side, listening as the approaching goblin grew unmistakably closer. ¡°Who is he?¡±

    ¡°Fangle Bogfoot,¡± Snag gave in with a low-pitched wail. ¡°My den brother.¡±

    Ashwyn had made good progress on dinner. Having already emptied her bowl, she was currently eyeing the leftovers still simmering over the fire. ¡°Before you clarify what in the seven realms a den brother is, does anyone else want more stew? Because I¡¯m about to polish it off.¡±

    ¡°How can you be hungry at a time like this?¡± Daana demanded.

    ¡°Shove off, Peaches. Some of us like to eat our feelings, okay?¡±

    Snag didn¡¯t hear the rest of their petty squabbling as his thoughts turned inwards. What was a den brother? Gods, you¡¯d think after having spent so much time with him, they would have bothered to learn a thing or two about goblins by now! Of course that would have meant being open about these sorts of things. Not really a possibility considering Snag fancied himself a steel trap rusted shut most days. Come to think of it, sharing such details probably would have made all of this a bit easier. Now he had to speed run them through a crash course on goblin culture before Fangle arrived.

    Shit.

    ¡°As soon as a goblin is old enough to walk on his own, he gets tossed into the same burrow as all the other babes born that same season,¡± Snag explained, still curled in the fetal position upon the ground. ¡°There were so many of us, it was impossible to keep straight who was actually related to you. Everyone who shared the same sleeping burrow automatically became your den kin. The shared space was supposed to make things equal, so that nobody got favored treatment. Except Fangle was the son of the den leader and he made sure everybody knew it. Little shit tormented me my whole life and never once got slapped down for it.¡±

    Daana stirred her stew thoughtfully. ¡°So Fangle was your childhood bully, got it. Why¡¯s he here?¡±

    Dammit. Why did she have to be so quick with the questions? Why couldn¡¯t she just sit in a hungry stupor like Ashwyn? Snag knew if he didn¡¯t provide an answer she¡¯d just keep at it. ¡°He¡¯s probably upset that I didn¡¯t stop in and offer my respects when we passed the ol¡¯ homestead about ten miles back.¡± Snag paused, before adding reluctantly, ¡°Apparently Fangle¡¯s the new den leader now.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°What? I purposely gave the den a three mile berth. I was hoping Fangle wouldn¡¯t catch wind of our presence until we had a decent head start.¡±

    Daana set her steaming bowl of chow by her feet and crossed her arms, pinning him beneath an unrelenting glare. ¡°Are you avoiding him because you¡¯re still scared of him? You, the most notorious goblin in all the land, famous for inciting civil war within the United Territories of the Realm?¡±

    Snag produced a knocking sound from within his chest. His attempt to deter Daana was wildly unsuccessful on the account that it sounded less like a threat and more like a dying shrew.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The elf shook her head in disbelief. ¡°Seems like he should be the one afraid of you.¡±

    Fangle¡¯s annoying voice carried on the breeze, substantially closer than it had been the last time Snag had had the misfortune of hearing it. ¡°I¡¯m done waiting, Snaglebrag. And don¡¯t you get any bright ideas about fighting me, either. I¡¯ve got more than a hundred of our kin hunkered down in the grass waiting to jump in the moment you cause trouble.¡±

    Ashwyn¡¯s nostrils twitched as she tested the air. Stifling a snort, she reached for the stew pot and ladled herself another steaming portion. ¡°He¡¯s bluffing. I smell ten goblins, maybe twelve, tops.¡±

    ¡°Oh! An¡¯ one last thing,¡± Fangle called.

    Daana wriggled the tip of her pinky into her ear, wincing at the goblin¡¯s unnecessary volume. ¡°Does he always talk this much?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you, Peaches.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Daana bristled at the accusation. ¡°At least I know something about volume control.¡±

    ¡°Snaglebrag! Oi, Snaglebrag! I¡¯m talking to you!¡±

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Snag leapt to his feet and threw his clawed hands into the air in exasperation. ¡°What, Fangle? What more could you possibly have to say that can¡¯t be said to my face?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got your mam with me. So yeah. Don¡¯t get clever.¡±

    ¡°Mam?¡± Snag¡¯s eyes darted back and forth as he toyed with the ring strung through his lip, ruminating in his thoughts. Why did Fangle have Mam with him? By Snag¡¯s count, that old bag of bones should have been buried in the ground decades ago. There was something foul afoot here and he didn¡¯t like it.

    Snag smelled the goblins before he saw them. It was a familiar scent, a mix of bog laurel, smoke, and black river silt. It summoned an old squirmy feeling in the pit of his gut, something he thought had died years ago. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, Snag watched as the rustling grass parted, allowing a pair of goblins to pop into view.

    The first was Fangle. Snag hasn¡¯t seen the cuss in years but he looked virtually the same. Maybe a little older. Definitely more ugly. Fangle was a weathered, wiry goblin who¡¯s collection of bangles was rather impressive considering he was missing sizable chunks from both ears. He was similar in size to Snag. In fact, everything about him was suspiciously similar to Snag. From his jewels, to his tattoos, all the way down to his choice of clothing. All except for the bone-handled dagger, for Fangle had not just one, but three strapped to his person.

    Always overkill with this one.

    Fangle swaggered into the center of camp, moving to the tips of his toes in order to look down his nose at Snag. ¡°Still puny as ever, I see, Snaglebrag.¡±

    ¡°Mhm,¡± Snag murmured, half listening. He tilted his head to get a better view of the second goblin. Mam appeared to be having trouble navigating the long grass. Her bent frame was obscured by a thick, woven shawl. The elderly goblin hobbled closer, stopping every few paces to fight the thorns that snagged her loose garments like cat claws to furniture.

    ¡°You sure went through a lot of trouble to drag an old lady out here, Fangle.¡± Snag spoke without lifting his gaze from the elderly goblin, who appeared to be losing the battle against the thorns.

    ¡°You never did have much respect for authority,¡± Fangle replied. ¡°I figured if there was anyone who¡¯d get through to you, it would be your dear ol¡¯ mam.¡±

    Snag¡¯s stare moved from the old goblin woman and settled over his den brother. ¡°That¡¯s not Mam.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean that¡¯s not your mam? Of course it is!¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I wouldn¡¯t recognize my own mother?¡±

    ¡°Well you have been away for some time,¡± Fangle said. ¡°People change as they age, you know. You certainly did. You¡¯re ugly as fuck as now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not my mam. The smell¡¯s wrong!¡± Mam¡¯s smell was that of sweaty sausages on a hot summer day. The elderly goblin across from him had a bitter fragrance, like crushed dandelion leaves.

    ¡°Oi!¡± Fangle twisted around in the direction of the elderly goblin, motioning for her to join them faster. ¡°I thought you said this tadpole was one of your brood.¡±

    ¡°I said it was possible! I had so many damn nippers, it¡¯s impossible to remember them all. Not without a good look at his face first.¡± The elderly female yanked at her skirts until the cloth tore free of the thistles ensnaring it. She stomped closer, huffing, ¡°I don¡¯t see why you couldn¡¯t have just brought him back to the den, Fangle. I can¡¯t walk a damn foot in this tall grass without getting hooked on something!¡±

    Not-Mam managed several steps before her foot caught on Ashwyn¡¯s alarm system and she went down in a tangle of twine and jingling bells. Neither Snag nor Fangle moved to assist her. Both remained stock-still, staring the other down, waiting to see who would break from the standoff first.

    ¡°You¡¯re both acting ridiculous.¡± Daana, bless her heart, shoved to her feet with a muttered curse and stomped over to help the flailing goblin. With a few twists and turns of the twine, the elf had Not-Mam untangled from the alarm system. Daana extended her hand to the elderly goblin. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    Not-Mam stared at Daana¡¯s hand as if expecting it to bite her. ¡°What¡¯s she doing, Fangle? She want money?¡±

    Daana¡¯s insulted expression said everything her mouth didn¡¯t. ¡°No, I¡¯m helping you.¡±

    Unconvinced, Not-Mam uttered something in Laftak under the false assumption that Daana wouldn¡¯t understand.

    A smile tugged at the corner of Snag¡¯s mouth when Daana¡¯s hands shot to her hips in outrage. ¡°Excuse me?¡± the elf said, having the sense not to stomp her feet even though she looked like she really, really wanted to. ¡°How dare you! I¡¯m not planning to rob anyone!¡±

    Snag snickered at the older goblin¡¯s shock. ¡°What¡¯s there to steal? Those bangles of yours aren¡¯t even real gold anyway.¡±

    With a look that could have curdled a rock, Not-Mam grabbed Daana¡¯s hand and heaved herself upright. Sniffing her disapproval, she adjusted her skirts and stomped towards Snag and Fangle, grumbling, ¡°He¡¯d better hope he¡¯s not one of mine, else he¡¯s about to get his ears clipped.¡±

    Shoving Fangle aside, Not-Mam took Snag¡¯s face in her claws and twisted it this way and that, squinting one eye as she peered up at him. Snag¡¯s weak protests went ignored. With a calculating sniff, she released him, turning back to Fangle. ¡°Not mine.¡±

    Fangle¡¯s expression fell. ¡°What do you mean he¡¯s not yours?¡±

    ¡°Not mine,¡± Not-Mam repeated. She mistook Fangle¡¯s dejected expression for confusion and began listing all the different ways to make her point, if not clearer, than certainly more graphic. ¡°I¡¯m not his mam. He¡¯s not my runt. Didn¡¯t slip from my loins in a puddle of¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know what it means!¡± Fangle cried.

    ¡°Good. Not as stupid as you look then.¡± Not-Mam wrinkled her brow as she studied Snag one last time. With a huff of disapproval, she turned and shuffled over the cook pit to warm her hands by the fire. ¡°He is blood, though. Got the family nose. Sister¡¯s brood, probably. She only ever birthed scrawny ones.¡±

    ¡°Bet you¡¯re feeling mighty stupid now, aren¡¯t you, Fangle?¡± Snag crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly.

    ¡°Oh shut up!¡± the other goblin said. ¡°This doesn¡¯t change anything, Snaglebrag. We¡¯ve still got business, me and you. And I ain¡¯t leaving until it¡¯s settled.¡±

 217 - Bad Name

    Snag didn¡¯t align himself with any of the almighty deities believed to control the reins of fate. It was all tall tales as far as he was concerned. Even if such beings existed, it wouldn¡¯t have changed his stance on the matter. No god or goddess had ever granted him any favors, after all. Snag had been born with smarts, not brawn, into a goblin clan that considered intelligence synonymous with trying to rise above one¡¯s social station. He¡¯d learned to fight the hard way, sure, but skills didn¡¯t make up for a puny body. Physically speaking, Snag made a plucked chicken look formidable in compassion.

    Fortunately for him, Fangle wasn¡¯t much bigger. Still, a little height would¡¯ve gone a long way in the intimidation department. Snag widened his stance, flashing Fangle a cocky smile. ¡°Are you finished playing games yet?¡±

    ¡°I playing ain¡¯t games, Snaggy. I told you, this is business.¡±

    ¡°Sure it is.¡± Snag added insult to injury with the inclusion of a dramatic eye roll. He hoped Daana saw, mostly because he¡¯d learned it from her. ¡°This is the whole reason I went around the den, you know. So I wouldn¡¯t have to put up with your nonsense.¡±

    ¡°Put up with us?¡± A tint of red flushed across Fangle¡¯s weathered face. ¡°It¡¯s us who¡¯ve been putting up with you! Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you caused us? Abandoning your family was bad enough, but then you became a traitor, too. And, to top it all off, you went and joined the other side! You gave us a bad name. The other dens refused to do any trade with us on account of you.

    Snag opened his mouth to speak but Fangle wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡°And now, the moment you finally do something right, get your name cleared, raise the status of the goblin across the land, you refuse to come home! We¡¯re the laughing stock of the community. Do you know how that makes us look? We were screwed with you and now we¡¯re screwed without you. And you couldn¡¯t even be bothered to stop in and throw us a bone, eh? Selfish little maggot.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Snag reached up and scratched the back of his head as his former nerve emptied like a popped wine skin. However he was expecting this confrontation to go, it was certainly not in this direction. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Damn right you should be!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize.¡± Snag¡¯s voice was small.

    ¡°Yeah, you didn¡¯t. Did you?¡±

    Snag gestured to Not-Mam halfheartedly. ¡°Can we cut the theatrics? You don¡¯t need to be dragging the elderly out into the wilderness just to make me feel guilty. What is it you want? It¡¯s money, innit? It¡¯s always money.¡±

    ¡°Money?¡± Insult danced across Fangle¡¯s red face. ¡°I don¡¯t want money!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°No! I want you, numbskull. Forget your fucking money. Been in the realm so long you¡¯ve started to think like one of them, eh? No, dingus, I want you back in our den and at my side. My number two.¡±

    Snag¡¯s gaze darted to Ashwyn and Daana. The former was too preoccupied with guarding her dinner to be paying attention, but Daana had heard every word. Her eyes screamed ¡®don¡¯t you dare¡¯ while her mouth, oddly, said nothing at all on account of it being snapped shut. He sort of whished her eyes would snap shut, too, so she¡¯d stop looking at him like a kicked puppy.

    Snag turned back to Fangle with a sigh. ¡°And this was your elaborate scheme? Dragging an old lady who ain¡¯t even my mam out here to guilt me into coming back home?¡±

    ¡°Told him it was stupid plan,¡± Not-Mam muttered. The elderly goblin was crouched alongside the fire, rubbing her gnarled hands together for warmth as she edged unmistakably closer to the simmering cook pot. A loud snap of Ashwyn¡¯s tusks convinced her that whatever was in the pot wasn¡¯t worth losing a hand over.

    Fangle didn¡¯t notice. He slung his scrawny arm over Snag¡¯s shoulder and pulled him close. ¡°Your influence is in your name, Snaglebrag. Everyone knows about the former traitor turned hero. You pitted the United Territories of Realm against itself! Tore it apart from the inside. I want you by my side and then, together, we¡¯re going to rub in all the other dens¡¯ faces. We¡¯ll become the most powerful clan in the land! Those who scorned us will come crawling back, begging for my forgiveness.¡±

    Fangle let the idea settle before prompting a response out of Snag with a gentle shake. ¡°Sounds good, doesn¡¯t it? I can see my brilliance has kindled the fire in your eyes. What do you say?¡±

    Snag didn¡¯t sound so sure himself. ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Fangle¡¯s ears went stiff as a board. ¡°What do you mean no? A goblin¡¯s nothing without his family. You of all people should know that by now. How you managed to scrape by on your own in the territories is beyond me.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Snag said. ¡°I made a new family.¡±

    Fangle¡¯s accusatory stare immediately settled over Daana and Ashwyn. ¡°I know what family is, brother. An orc and an elf do not a family make.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°There¡¯s a dwarf too. And another orc and¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll get you a wife!¡± Fangle announced as if the idea had just come to him and was worth shouting at the top of his lungs.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want a wife.¡±

    The other goblin scrunched his face up at Snag¡¯s protest. ¡°Well, I suppose we could arrange for a husband. It¡¯s not really the done thing in these parts, but if it means keeping you happy, I s¡¯ppose we could try to be a bit more ¡ª how do the realm folk put it? Accepting?¡±

    Snag¡¯s voice was flat and did not match the sudden impulse he had to slam his head against something solid. ¡°That¡¯s lovely, Fangle. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Not as lovely as your future husband will be. I promise you that, Snaglebrag. We¡¯ll get you a real looker.¡±

    ¡°It was sarcasm, idiot!¡±

    Fangle¡¯s shoulders lowered as he rolled this thought around in his head. ¡°What¡¯s sarcasm?¡±

    ¡°When you say something you don¡¯t mean.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that just lying?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different, because it¡¯s supposed to be funny. Like a mean joke. Gah ¡ª I don¡¯t have time to explain this to you!¡± They¡¯d wandered so far off course, Snag feared he didn¡¯t know how to get the conversation back on the right track again. Not that he necessarily wanted to finish his conversation with Fangle, but there were a few items worth setting straight. ¡°I don¡¯t want a husband, alright? Or a wife. No spouse. No mate. No concubines.¡±

    Another brilliant idea lit within Fangle¡¯s yellow eyes and he opened his mouth to deliver it.

    Snag took some small joy in cutting him short, shouting, ¡°No puppies either!¡±

    ¡°Not even a nice juicy one?¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    ¡°Well what do you want then?¡±

    ¡°Nothing! I don¡¯t want any part of this, Fangle. I¡¯m sorry you all suffered because of me, but I¡¯m not coming home. I got things to see, people to do.¡± From the corner of his eye, Snag saw Daana¡¯s eyes bulge, proving yet again that he should not have trusted idioms from a Stoneclaw. Daana desperately wanted to say something. Her face practically screamed ¡®you¡¯re saying that wrong¡¯ but she had the sense to keep it to herself. There was a time and place for corrections and the middle of a damn standoff was definitely not it.

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair!¡± Fangle protested, sounding just like the snot-nosed brat Snag had grown up with all those years ago.

    ¡°No, Fangle. Being driven from your home¡¯s not fair. Being kicked out of your land for trying to help a stranger isn¡¯t fair. Saying goodbye to your closest friend when you knew full well it should have been you that died isn¡¯t fair!¡± Crap. Snag hadn¡¯t meant for that last one to slip out. Regardless, he couldn¡¯t seem to stop the hot torrent of excrement bubbling its way up his gullet and out his mouth. ¡°So don¡¯t you tell me about life being fair because I¡¯ve lived it! Nothing has ever been fair for me. And I¡¯ll be damned before you march on in here and demand what you think you deserve from me too, alright?¡±

    ¡°Snagle¨C¡±

    ¡°Shit, Fangle! That¡¯s all you¡¯re ever getting from me!¡± The rage boiled over inside of him and Snag suddenly had the insatiable need to kick something over and over. Even in the throes of madness, the logical portion of his brain decided against taking his anger out on Fangle. He chose a hapless shrub instead, and kicked and kicked and kicked until the shrub was nothing more than a few bare branches sticking out of the ground. Snag stared at it, chest heaving, ignoring the twitch in his lower eyelid. He felt simultaneously better and burdened with the insatiable urge to do it all over again.

    ¡°Snag?¡±

    Daana¡¯s voice snapped him from his mania. Snag¡¯s startled gaze shifted back to Fangle and the elderly goblin. Both were frozen in place staring at him as he¡¯d sprouted a second head. Crap on a cracker. This was not going at all as he intended. So much for cool, collected Snag. He was acting like a downright monster.

    ¡°Fangle,¡± Snag started.

    ¡°I won¡¯t bother you no more,¡± Fangle murmured. ¡°This was a stupid idea anyway. Shouldn¡¯t have come here. Don¡¯t know what I was thinking.¡±

    This was what he wanted, wasn¡¯t it? Fangle was leaving empty-handed, having been bested by the more clever goblin. Snag should have been elated and yet, he didn¡¯t feel like it. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he settled on an answer which would have normally made him question his own sanity. ¡°Wait here.¡±

    Snag stomped away into the grass. Once certain no thieving sneaks were watching him, he dug up one of his money stashes. While time consuming, burying his wealth each night ensured that if anyone jumped them in the night, they would only make off with the handful of decoy change he kept in Wormy¡¯s saddlebag. Snag fished a small sack of coin from the hole before replacing the dirt back over the top.

    With his prize in hand, Snag trudged back to camp and jutted it at Fangle. ¡°Here. Take it.¡±

    Fangle¡¯s scowl darkened. ¡°I said I don¡¯t want your money.¡±

    ¡°You want me to snap at you again instead? Take it and go.¡±

    Reluctantly, the other goblin accepted it. ¡°Alright, but it was your idea.¡±

    ¡°It was.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye then. I guess.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye.¡±

    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    With one final confused look over his shoulder, Fangle took Not-Mam by the arm and led her away until both of their sinewy forms disappeared into the swaying tundra grass.

    With a disgruntled sigh, Snag dropped back onto the ground between his gobsmacked companions. Ashwyn had the cook pot sitting in the dirt between her legs, scraping the bottom clean with a wooden spoon. Wordlessly, she jutted the spoon in his direction, offering Snag the last bite of stew.

    Snag shook his head no, miserably.

    Daana tried the more personable approach. She reached out and touched his shoulder, asking, ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    What kind of question was that? Alright? How could he possibly be alright? Instead of facing his issues, he went and lost his temper and made a fool of himself. And then, when he could have just talked it out like damned adult, he took the coward¡¯s approach and gave Fangle a sackful of coin...

    ¡°Fuck me.¡± Snag raised his head as his inner thoughts transformed from misery to horror. ¡°I think I just got played. I handed that asshole a sack of money!¡±

    ¡°Thought that seemed out of character for you,¡± Ashwyn grunted, still bent on scraping the last bits of burnt supper from the bottom of the cast iron pot.

    ¡°That clever bastard! Why didn¡¯t one of you stop me?¡±

 218 - Poor Planning

    A tallow candle burned at the center of the small table, filling the room with the greasy undertones of rendered animal fat. The chamber was different from the one Rasp had awoken in. It was larger, for one, with enough bunks to sleep at least a dozen. Rasp¡¯s missing companions gradually trickled in, one by one. Once everyone was assembled, Priestess Oreword gave some congratulatory spiel and an offering of food, before she left with Whisper and Bromm to go over the details of the assignment. At the time, Rasp dared not join them ¡ª not with Whisper on the verge of taking his head off. But now, seated at the deathly silent table, barely able to breathe around the gradual tightening in his chest, he regretted staying just as badly.

    At least he knew where he stood with Whisper. The others hadn¡¯t uttered so much as a peep since learning their fate.

    Rasp stirred his food in silence, unable to stomach anything more than a single bite of the soft, yeasty mush. His stomach growled in protest but his will to eat was gone. How could he focus on something so trivial when Faris, Hop, and June were gathered around him, each one slowly coming to terms with the realization that they would never step foot on the surface again? The very thought made him want to disintegrate in a vat of his own stomach acid.

    Unlike Whisper, the others hadn¡¯t reacted to the news with screaming or biting. They sat quiet instead, allowing the mounting dread to grow so thick, it was physically painful. Rasp wished someone would yell, throw a fist, kick his head in maybe. Anything would have been better than the all-consuming silence.

    Father¡¯s blurry shape pitter-pattered towards him, talons scraping against the polished wood table as he went. The raven dipped his beak into Rasp¡¯s food and regretted it immediately. Father screeched in disgust and whipped his head back and forth, ridding his mouth of offensive flavor. His erratic movements succeeded in splattering the lukewarm mush over Rasp¡¯s face and down the front of his shirt.

    ¡°So melodramatic.¡± Hop¡¯s low voice mumbled from across the circular table. ¡°It doesn¡¯t taste that bad.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon? This shit tastes like a mushroom¡¯s butthole,¡± June disagreed.

    The tabletop lurched as Hop caught himself against it, beating his chest in what sounded like an attempt to loosen the mouthful of mush that¡¯d lodged itself down the wrong pipe. ¡°An apt comparison,¡± he managed between violent, hacking coughs.

    For whatever reason, Hop¡¯s polite attempt to not cough his breakfast back up in front of everyone only encouraged June¡¯s descriptive contributions. ¡°I will say this, it¡¯s not nearly as bad as the time I ate a nest full of snake eggs. Raw, mind you.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem entirely abnormal for a bear,¡± Faris said.

    ¡°Who said anything about being a bear?¡±

    ¡°Dear gods. Tell me you were drunk.¡±

    ¡°I wish. Might have helped me forget all the squiggly bones getting caught in my throat on the way down.¡±

    Hop was back to making wet, heaving noises.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t even the worst part.¡± June sounded rather pleased with herself. Rasp may not have been able to witness the shit-eating grin spread across her face, but he heard it loud and clear. ¡°The whole thing left me as sick as a dog. I was laid up for three days. Had hot chunks blowing out of me from both ends like a brown fountain.¡±

    There was a metallic clatter as Faris dropped his spoon onto the table and pushed his bowl away in defeat. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this, but I think she might actually be worse than you.¡±

    It took Rasp several seconds to register that Faris was talking to him. ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°In all our time together, you never once compared yourself to a shit fountain.¡±

    ¡°I said brown,¡± June corrected, pausing to chew and swallow a mouthful of bitter mush. ¡°I am a lady, after all. Gotta leave some things to the imagination.¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t understand. Dread still hung in the air. They were still cursed to die a grisly death trying to defeat an unknown, powerful evil ¡ª because of him no less. He was the last person Faris should have wanted to talk to. In fact, he was surprised they were even letting him join them at the table at all. By all rights they should have kicked him out into the hallway to suffer alone like he deserved. And yet, his three former friends carried on as usual, as if he hadn¡¯t thrown away their lives in a reckless bid to outsmart their captors.

    Rasp¡¯s knee slammed into the table the moment Faris nudged his elbow. ¡°I¡¯m not going to repeat what you sister called the food,¡± the faun started.

    ¡°Mushroom butthole,¡± June gleefully obliged.

    ¡°But you get really cranky when you¡¯re hungry and I don¡¯t want to deal with that. So do us all a favor and eat something, yeah?¡±

    Rasp¡¯s voice caught in his throat before it wriggled free in the form of a hoarse squeak. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to make me spoon feed you, just know, I¡¯m not going to spare the dragon noises on account of there being company. You¡¯re getting the full experience.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t hold it back anymore. ¡°How?¡± Rasp blurted out, feeling the wild thoughts churning inside of him start to boil up and spill over like froth on an unwatched pot. ¡°How can you all just be okay with this? I fucked up and everyone¡¯s just acting like it never happened.¡±

    There was a stretch of silence that seemed to go for ages before Faris said, ¡°It was my stupid idea to come here. Not yours.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯d done it my way, we would have already been dead by now,¡± June added. ¡°Granted, it would have been the most badass last stand ever. But dead is dead.¡±

    What followed could only be described as an awkward, purposeful pause. Rasp didn¡¯t understand its meaning. At least not until someone struck the table with the flat of their open hand, causing the furniture¡¯s stout legs to shudder in protest. ¡°Ahem,¡± June cleared her throat in an unsubtle manner.

    ¡°What?¡± Hop said. ¡°Why are you both looking at me like that?¡±

    ¡°This is the part where you say something disparaging about yourself,¡± Faris informed him.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    June helpfully provided the answer. ¡°Because even though Rasp may have been the one to strike the idiotic deal, it¡¯s not his fault he was put in that position. We all agreed to come here.¡± Hop must have needed more convincing, because she followed it up with something more likely to appeal to Hop¡¯s strong sense of self-preservation. ¡°Also it might boost our chances of survival if our second strongest player was fully functioning and not a sad shadow of a man wallowing in guilt. Just saying.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Hop said. He sounded torn, as if conflicted between doing what was best for the group and satisfying his incessant need to remain factual. ¡°In that case, I was foolish for listening to all of you then?¡±

    ¡°Well done,¡± Faris congratulated.

    ¡°There. See, little brother?¡± June said proudly. ¡°Everyone fucked up, not just you.¡±

    ¡°Some of us less so than others,¡± Hop muttered under his breath.

    They were letting him off the hook, just like that? Just as Rasp finally felt he was getting a grasp on the unspoken rules of friendship, something like this would come along and turn everything he thought he knew on its head. He had so many questions but he feared if he voiced them aloud, his friends would realize their error in judgment and take it all back.

    The start of a second emotional spiral was beginning to drag Rasp under when another nudge from Faris nearly knocked him from his chair. ¡°You really are stuck, aren¡¯t you? She just called you little and you didn¡¯t even rage about it.¡±

    Rasp lifted his head. ¡°She did?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only fair,¡± June replied. ¡°You are littler than me.¡±

    ¡°...I.¡± His eyes swept back and forth across the candle-lit table, unable to make out anything more than three obscure shadows. They were staring expectantly at him. He could feel it. Except he didn¡¯t know what they were expecting from him because none of this was going anything like it should have been.

    ¡°You?¡± Faris prompted.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Despite his efforts, Rasp still couldn¡¯t get out anything more than that single stupid word.

    ¡°Are angry!¡± The legs of June¡¯s chair scraped the tile floor as she leapt eagerly to her feet. ¡°I just called you little and now your blood is boiling with rage. Come at me, little brother. Let¡¯s see who can draw first blood!¡±

    Am so confused, his thoughts filled in the words his tongue could not. Rasp slid his chair back and stood, stumbling blindly across the dingy room. He found the exit with his foot first and, after a brief, frantic search, located the handle and yanked the door open.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± June shouted after him.

    ¡°I need some air,¡± was all he managed to get out before he slammed the door shut behind him. The nauseating brightness of the hallway was only made worse by his mounting panic. Rasp closed his eyes as he sank to the ground, arms wrapped around his chest so tight it was inhibiting his ability to breathe. The rapid drum of his heartbeat filled his ears until it drowned out all other sounds.

    Which was probably the reason he didn¡¯t hear the approaching guard¡¯s footsteps. Not even the yelling. Truth be told, he didn¡¯t even realize he was sharing the hallway with another person, not until they started nudging him the toe of their boot.

    Rasp smacked the bothersome boot away with a slap. ¡°Stop that! I¡¯m not running away, I¡¯m just¡­¡± He didn¡¯t have a good answer for that and, thus, let the sentence die on his lips unfinished.

    Good gods, he was running away, wasn¡¯t he? Maybe not from the nightmare of battling underground monsters, but his friends, at least, and their olive branch of undeserved forgiveness.

    The door opened and shut behind him. A set of clacking hoof steps approached, ignoring the angry shouts from the guard as the person they belonged to eased onto the floor next to Rasp. Rasp¡¯s heartbeat started to take off again. Forcing a slow breath, he drew his knees to his chest and cinched his arms tight around them.

    ¡°That was something,¡± Faris said, finally. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see the day you turned down a fight.¡±

    Rasp forced the words past the growing lump in his throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°I was impressed with your restraint, actually.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯m not talking about the fight.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you being a dick about it?¡±

    ¡°Would that help?¡±

    Rasp realized it was probably meant as a rhetorical question but, nevertheless, he felt like some sort of verbal berating would actually make him feel better. Waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop was downright insufferable. ¡°Maybe.¡±

    Faris sighed. It was a deep, bone-rattling sound. ¡°Two days ago I was on the verge of exhaustion, running from a group of witches who would have killed me the moment they caught up to us. My brilliant solution was to ignore common sense and take refuge in a haunted underground city. Where, after you single-handedly got us free of a deranged cult, I led us right into a nest of carnivorous plants. You¡¯re not being a dick to me about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Doesn¡¯t feel great.¡±

    ¡°I,¡± Rasp started, feeling the words begin to form within his head. ¡°I think I get what you¡¯re saying now.¡±

    ¡°Good. Because I¡¯m trying not to fixate on it.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re right, by the way.¡± A small flicker of his old self returned as Rasp felt an involuntary smile tug at the corner of his downturned mouth. ¡°This is all your fault. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯d started to think otherwise.¡±

    ¡°What? No, that¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Say no more, Dingle. I heard your message loud and clear.¡± He turned and planted his hand on Faris¡¯s broad shoulder, fighting to keep the guilt from bleeding into his strained smile. ¡°I forgive you.¡±

    It was hard to tell given the obnoxious glow of the algae covered walls, but Rasp was pretty sure Faris was staring at him in what was surely heartfelt gratitude. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you decided not to be a dick about it.¡±

    ¡°You certainly don¡¯t make it easy for me.¡± Rasp slid his hand from Faris¡¯s shoulder and slumped back over his knees. ¡°Thanks for not being a dick, either. I don¡¯t know what I did to make you want to be my friend, but I thank the gods each and every day that you haven¡¯t come to your senses yet.¡±

    Apparently all the emotionally vulnerable crap was just as hard for Faris, because his response came in the form of a noncommittal grunt.

    Rasp preferred it that way. ¡°Now what?¡±

    ¡°We should probably go back inside the room. Our guard friend here doesn¡¯t look too happy.¡±

    Rasp tilted his head and squinted, realizing he¡¯d forgotten all about the guard. Having given up on the shouting, the dwarf¡¯s hazy shape loomed over them, muttering unintelligible things under his breath. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s a good start,¡± Rasp said. ¡°But I meant as in ¡®now what do we do to keep from dying¡¯?¡±

    Faris heaved to his feet, offering an entirely unhelpful solution. ¡°I suppose we could try the ¡®keep living¡¯ option.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an option?¡±

    The faun bent over and helped pull Rasp upright. ¡°Unfortunately it comes with the downside of having to pre-plan and think things through ahead of time. Finding out what sort of beast we¡¯re dealing with, for example, would be a step in the right direction. From there, we can discover potential weakness and determine a viable strategy for taking the beast down without getting anyone killed.¡±

    ¡°Disgusting. Who in their right mind would go through all that effort for something that may not even work?¡±

    ¡°People who fancy living, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Rasp shuddered. ¡°Next you¡¯ll be telling me you¡¯re one of those people.¡±

    ¡°I try to be when I can.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what, Dingle, you can do all the planning for the both of us. Just point me in the direction of the monster and tell me what to do.¡±

    Faris directed their steps back towards the room where the others were waiting. ¡°That is an example of poor planning.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an example of poor planning.¡±

    The guard swung the door open in front of them. Faris led the way through, issuing one final sigh as the pair slipped from the bright-ass hallway into the dimly lit room that smelled like singed hog fat. ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that logic.¡±

 219 - Worm On A Hook

    Rasp was working through his second helping of yeasty mush when the heavy door creaked open and shut. A single pair of footsteps shuffled inside ¡ª reluctantly, judging by their slow, dragging steps. The individual hairs on Rasp¡¯s arm lifted, the same way they did right before a thunder and lightning storm. Considering there weren¡¯t many storms underground, the only other logical explanation was that the new arrival was Whisper and, more importantly, that their magic was stronger than it had been in months. Under normal circumstances, Rasp would have considered Whisper¡¯s revived strength a leg-up. Currently, however, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if said power was about to come crashing down on his head.

    Rasp took a breath to steady his nerves and focused on the surrounding details of the room to keep grounded. He heard June dozing on one of the bunks near the back. Her soft breaths were slow and steady. Hop and Faris were at the table. The former stood and started to clear away the breakfast dishes, either out of the incessant need to look busy or to make room for something.

    ¡°Are you finished with that, Rasp?¡± Hop asked.

    Rasp hugged the bowl to his chest, ignoring the impulse to hiss at the blurry hand that reached expectantly in his direction. ¡°Mine.¡±

    ¡°Welcome back,¡± Faris greeted Whisper. ¡°Did our captors give you reading material?¡±

    Whisper¡¯s quills rattled in annoyance. ¡°I insisted upon it. They cannot expect me to vanquish a nameless abomination I know nothing about. At the very least, I¡¯d like to know what species of monster I¡¯ll be pitted against before it kills me.¡±

    ¡°Before it kills us.¡± Hop¡¯s assurance was meant to be a joke, but he flubbed the landing. The result was something far more ominous sounding. Probably didn¡¯t help that everyone in the room was already thinking it anyway.

    ¡°Is this all they had?¡± Faris was unable to mask the sting of disappointment from his voice. His chair squeaked in protest as he stood and pushed it out of the way, helping spread the research materials across the freshly cleared table. ¡°A couple of scrolls and a few journal entries?¡±

    ¡°These were the only things salvageable,¡± Whisper explained. ¡°Moisture got to the rest of it.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for asking the obvious.¡± Hop¡¯s burly shape returned to the table and filled the empty seat next to Rasp. ¡°But is there something preventing the inhabitants from simply leaving? Abandoning the haunted underground city seems like a far more sensible option than this.¡±

    ¡°You mean waiting around for a prophesied hero to randomly show up and save you from your problems isn¡¯t sensible?¡± Faris countered.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your problem, Hop,¡± Rasp said, scraping the bottom of his bowl with his spoon for last morsels of sustenance. It wasn¡¯t very enjoyable, but it was filling the empty void of his stomach decently well. Seeing as he wasn¡¯t sure whether or not this would be his last meal, he supposed he¡¯d at least make it count. ¡°We¡¯re dealing with a fanatical cult. Can¡¯t reason someone out of a position they didn¡¯t reason themselves into.¡±

    Hop drummed his fingers against the table in thought. ¡°That¡¯s uncharacteristically deep of you, Rasp.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t credit me. I don¡¯t have the brains to string together that kind of philosophical horseshit. It was written on a slip of paper stuffed inside a cookie, remember? You read it to me. ¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. After I had to fight you to keep you from eating the paper.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to know I¡¯m not the only one who has to pry things out of your mouth,¡± Faris said in a tone dripping with envy.

    ¡°Now, now, Dingle, no need to be jealous. There¡¯s plenty of my mouth to go around.¡± Rasp tried to lick his spoon in a seductive manner but succeeded only in smearing a little bit of the foul mush across his nose.

    ¡°As loath as I am to agree with him,¡± Whisper¡¯s melodic voice cut in with the sharpness of honed steel as they redirected the conversation back to the topic at hand, ¡°the little bird is correct. I tried to reason with the priestess, but she and her people have been isolated from the outside world for too long. The unknown terrifies them more than the monster. They have put their faith in the appearance of this Kriegaar and will not be swayed otherwise.¡±

    At least Whisper was talking to him again. Or at least in his general direction. That was something, Rasp supposed.

    ¡°Just our luck,¡± Faris grumbled as he leafed through whatever ancient tomes Whisper had placed on the table. The parchment was stiff from years of unuse and protested each turn of the page with a sound that would¡¯ve haunted any respectable librarian for years to come. ¡°So what¡¯s the next step? Sift through the records in hopes we find something to identify what monster we¡¯re dealing with?¡±

    ¡°That is my hope, yes,¡± Whisper replied.

    ¡°And you can read this, right? Because I can¡¯t make heads nor tails of it.¡±

    ¡°Regretfully, no.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Hop and Faris shouted in unison.

    ¡°Better hope there¡¯s pictures,¡± Rasp said.

    Whisper ignored Rasp¡¯s contribution and moved the conversation along as though the Stoneclaw had ceased to exist entirely. ¡°The interpreter has offered his services with the research. Unfortunately, he seems reluctant to even speak of the creature out loud. Aside from translating the text, I do not expect him to be overtly helpful in identifying it.¡±

    The memory of the soft, lulling voice resurfaced. Rasp shrank down in his chair, feeling suddenly cold despite the oppressive mugginess that clouded the room. ¡°Did they mention that it¡¯s telepathic?¡±

    ¡°It was mentioned,¡± Whisper¡¯s reply was automatic, as if they¡¯d simply answered without realizing the magnitude of Rasp¡¯s words. The fae¡¯s quills rattled disquietly as they stopped and considered what Rasp was actually saying. ¡°How did you know that?¡±

    ¡°Because its voice gets in my head the same way yours does.¡± Except of course that the monster was nicer to him. Probably because it wished to eat him which, unfortunately, only reinforced Rasp¡¯s general distrust of anyone who showed him a lick of kindness. He sank ever-lower as he recalled the other key information from his encounter. ¡°I think it¡¯s some kind of earth elemental, too.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Because?¡± Whisper prompted.

    ¡°It opened up a rift in the ground and tried to lure me inside. Might¡¯ve been the second time, actually, come to think of it.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait.¡± Faris seized the information and ran with it. ¡°When we leapt from the balcony and the ground heaved up to meet us, you said that wasn¡¯t you.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me. I was trying to summon wind in a place that doesn¡¯t have active air currents, remember?¡±

    ¡°Vividly,¡± Hop assured him.

    Faris continued undeterred. ¡°Could it have been the monster?¡±

    ¡°Are you proposing that the monster saved me?¡± Rasp scoffed.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Faris said. ¡°It¡¯s obviously hungry and you¡¯re the biggest source of magic it¡¯s come across in a while. Seems only logical that it¡¯d intervene to keep you from splattering across the ground. Magic eaters can only feed on live prey, after all.¡±

    What a horrific mental image. Unfortunately, no amount of shoving could get it to retreat back into the far recesses of his mind. Rasp shuddered at the thought of being consumed alive. ¡°I don¡¯t like this theory.¡±

    ¡°Regardless, it is the best theory we have so far,¡± Hop said.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Faris said with the sort of smugness you could feel from across the table. ¡°It¡¯s nice to be appreciated for my brilliant ideas for a change.¡±

    Rasp demonstrated his appreciation with a single finger, lifting it high enough in the air for not just Faris, but for everyone else assembled around the table to see as well.

    ¡°So we have a monster that can manipulate the ground, is telepathic, and feeds on magic.¡± The furious scribbling of charcoal against parchment indicated that Hop had appointed himself the official notetaker. ¡°That does help narrow it down some.¡±

    ¡°Does that mean you know what it is?¡± Rasp asked hopefully.

    ¡°I¡¯m the wrong person to ask. If it¡¯s information on ancient magical beasts you want, you should probably start with the person who was alive around the same time the old ones went out of existence.¡±

    Ah, yes. Rasp had been avoiding addressing that person for obvious reasons. Physically, he couldn¡¯t sink any lower in his chair, but that didn¡¯t stop him from trying. ¡°Normally I would, but said person is currently furious at me and probably wouldn¡¯t answer even if I tried.¡±

    ¡°While I am still upset at your recklessness, little bird, I am not furious.¡±

    Rasp was afraid to ask why.

    Whisper was more than happy to provide the reason without the need for him to ask. ¡°Seeing as you volunteered me as the monster slayer, I will be doing the same for you.¡±

    Rasp shrugged. ¡°I already assumed I would be helping you slay it.¡±

    ¡°You misunderstand. I am not volunteering you as the slayer.¡±

    Rasp was about to ask what other position he could possibly take up when the answer struck him speechless. Nearly speechless, anyway, as he opened his mouth out of reflex and a surprisingly coherent string of words came tumbling out. ¡°You¡¯re making me the bait?¡±

    ¡°A fitting consequence, in my opinion,¡± Whisper said. ¡°The creature already has a connection to you. Once we¡¯ve determined how to defeat it, you can have the honor of drawing it in.¡±

    Rasp had absolutely no leg to stand on and his mentor knew it, too. Instead of verbally accepting Whisper¡¯s thorn-riddled olive branch, he made a vague ¡®yes, yes, it is to be expected¡¯ gesture with his hand.

    ¡°To answer the original question, yes, I suspect I may know what the nameless one is. It will require more research to confirm, but as of right now I believe it to be the predecessor of the burrowing drake.¡±

    ¡°A dragon?¡± Rasp said. Why couldn¡¯t it have ever been something less terrifying? Why couldn¡¯t the nameless have been a giant gopher? Or mole? As the appointed bait, he¡¯d have much rather faced down something cute and fuzzy.

    ¡°The predecessor of the burrowing drake,¡± Whisper repeated, putting specific emphasis on the fact that, similar to themself, the dragon was old as shit. ¡°Like mortal-kind, the dragons and drakes that exist today are a byproduct of survival. They had to adapt in order to endure a world of dwindling magic, and are now but a shadow of their ancestors¡¯ former might. The nameless one will be more clever than any dragon you have ever faced. It will be reluctant to leave the protection of its lair, which is why we must give it no other choice. If we can drive it mad with hunger, it will emerge eventually. Once it is lured into position, the drake¡¯s vulnerability to light is how we may be able to thwart its telepathic abilities, making it susceptible to attack.¡±

    Whisper paused, allowing the idea to set in, before issuing a sigh through tightly clenched teeth. ¡°In light of recent discoveries, however, I believe we have one small complication.¡±

    ¡°One?¡± Faris repeated. ¡°This whole scenario is one massive complication after another.¡±

    ¡°We do not yet know the extent of the beast¡¯s telepathic connection.¡± Whisper continued, ¡°My own telepathy only allows me to glimpse thoughts, nothing deeper. There are those with power that exceeds far beyond mine, capable of accessing not only thoughts, but memories as well. The nameless could have access to everything the little bird knows the moment he steps out from under the priestess¡¯s protection. It is for this reason the little bird cannot know the full plan prior to its execution.¡±

    Rasp shot taller in the chair. ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    ¡°The fact that the nameless one can communicate with you in a modern language is indicative of an extremely powerful magic, little bird. It¡¯s a risk we cannot take.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that work if I¡¯m supposed to be the bait?¡±

    In true Whisper fashion, the fae answered in the most horrific way possible. ¡°Is it necessary for the fisherman to tell the worm its fate when stringing it upon the hook?¡±

    Rasp hadn¡¯t thought of that. In fact, he was now wishing Whisper hadn¡¯t mentioned it at all. Already, he could feel the warm mush begin to shift in his gut, threatening to lurch upwards at any moment.

    Whisper helpfully answered their own question. ¡°The bait need not know the how. All it has to do is lure the monster into the trap.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s tongue failed him as a slew of frantic ideas stampeded across his thoughts. Following that logic, wouldn¡¯t the monster also know that he was the bait? And, by extension, that there were others waiting to defeat it? Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe if the nameless one sensed a trap it simply wouldn¡¯t show up at all. And then it wouldn¡¯t matter whether or not Rasp was the bait because the beast would know to stay in the safety of its lair. But then how would they get back to the surface? They wouldn¡¯t leave until the beast was dead and it couldn¡¯t be dead if they never found it!

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Whisper congratulated. The small fae was suddenly at Rasp¡¯s side, pulling him from his chair and herding him towards the door. ¡°Continue running those thoughts just like that. Keep anything listening in a constant state of confusion. I knew you would be exemplary at this.¡±

    Rasp dug his heels against the worn floorboards with limited success. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°This chamber is charmed, meaning the creature¡¯s magic cannot reach those within. For this to work, you have to be outside of the priestess¡¯s protection spell.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t just throw me out in the cold!¡±

    ¡°Never fear, little bird. We¡¯ll have a special place arranged just for you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting the distinct feeling it¡¯s going to involve being strapped between two posts with nothing but a skimpy dress on.¡±

    ¡°Come now, boy. You¡¯re being preposterous. Between the planning and information gathering, where would I possibly find the time to locate a dress in your size?¡±

    Rasp didn¡¯t know which was more terrifying. The fact that Whisper was intending to use him as a maiden sacrifice without knowing how or when, or that his mentor was suddenly cracking jokes. At least he hoped they were jokes. Good gods, maybe Whisper was serious.

    ¡°Whisper, in case it wasn¡¯t abundantly clear before, I¡¯m sorry I made a deal on your behalf without thinking it through. I will learn from this and do better next time.¡±

    Rasp stumbled out into the adjoining hallway, shielding his eyes against the unrelenting glow of the bioluminescent algae. Whisper¡¯s voice echoed throughout his head as the door slammed shut behind him. I would normally say something encouraging, but it would be best if your thoughts were panicked right now. So, with that said, let us hope there will be a next time.

 220 - Dark Passenger

    Oralia gazed down the open hatchway into the dark tunnel system below, torn between descending into the underground or turning back and finding a safer means to reach Briony¡¯s cottage. Ultimately, either decision would cost her. While the tunnels were undeniably faster, the question now was whether or not they were still secure. Short of running into an enemy patrol, she and Briony had no way of knowing whether they would be traversing the tunnel system alone. The remaining option would be to ditch the tunnels and hoof it through the forest on foot. An option that, while safer, would prove considerably slower. By Briony¡¯s estimation, an alternate route through the woods would tack on an extra hour.

    Oralia knew deep in her gut that they didn¡¯t have that kind of time.

    Filling her lungs with one final breath of cool night air, she lowered herself into the open hatch and down the rickety ladder. Her boots struck the compacted dirt below with a soft thud. She waited, testing the air for unfamiliar smells as her ears strained to catch anything out of the ordinary. The seconds slowly ticked by as Oralia stood stock-still, gathering as much information from her senses as possible. Neither her ears nor nose detected anything amiss.

    Oralia whistled for her companion to follow. The hatch eased shut, sealing the shaft in darkness as Briony clambered down the creaky ladder with less confidence than she¡¯d gone up. With Briony shaken and unable to see in the dark, it was up to Oralia to lead. She took a coil of rope from Briony¡¯s pack and pressed it into the faun¡¯s trembling hand. Wrapping the other end around her palm, Oralia moved deeper into the tunnel, unpleasantly aware that her ability to lead was soon going to get increasingly more difficult as the winding passage narrowed.

    The journey was slow and tedious without a lantern to light the way. Tediousness trumped recklessness, however. Lighting the candle lantern was not a risk they could afford. Any light whatsoever would immediately give their position away to whatever else was lurking underground. It was for this reason the hormones raging through Oralia¡¯s bloodstream proved unexpectedly useful. Orcs possessed a keen sense of smell on their own, but the added sensitivity was making it possible for her to retrace their steps simply by smell.

    She and Briony were making decent headway when a commotion stopped her in her tracks. Briony heard it as well. The little faun froze in place, eyes wide and ears fanned. ¡°That came from behind,¡± Briony whispered as her eyes darted back and forth, panicked. ¡°Near the hatch we came in through, I¡¯d wager.¡±

    Oralia crouched lower. Her voice uttered so softly, she barely heard it over the rapid heartbeat drumming in her ears. ¡°Is it unheard of for animals to get trapped down here?¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t an animal.¡±

    ¡°Can you tell how many?¡± As much as she tried, the source of the commotion was still too far away for Oralia¡¯s sense of smell to be of any help.

    ¡°Not yet. I¡¯m not really that keen to find out either.¡±

    Oralia bit back her agreement. As feared, the tunnels were compromised. Aside from numbers, the other pressing question was whether or not the approaching soldiers were of the magical variety. She and Briony would have better luck against regular military forces, but she suspected Tarathiel Cray, Geralt¡¯s second in command, knew that as well. If Cray was half as crafty as his reputation led her to believe, then he would¡¯ve sent witches to collect them. While sensible as far as strategies went, the fact that Oralia was playing host to a dark entity with an insatiable thirst for magic would not play out well for either side.

    Oralia blinked hard, dismissing the growing vision of dancing flames and the stench of charred flesh before it had time to fully form. Magical or not, the enemy was not yet close enough to rouse her dark passenger and she intended to keep it that way. She drew the folded parchment and chalk stick from her pocket and set about etching a crude symbol into the compacted dirt.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Briony hissed. Even at such close proximity, her lack of night vision prohibited her from seeing what was taking place.

    ¡°Making a seer¡¯s trap,¡± Oralia replied. ¡°I suspect our pursuers are from the division. If so, their magic will activate the symbol.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t hold them.¡±

    ¡°I am aware.¡± The seer¡¯s trap served only as a temporary annoyance against anything higher than a mid-level witch, but the resulting flash was all Oralia needed. She did not intend to be anywhere near the symbol if and when it went off. She only needed it to be a beacon to tell her whether or not their pursuers were magical and how far behind they were.

    Finished, Oralia stood and tucked the chalk stick back into the safety of her pocket. ¡°Where is the nearest hatchway? The sooner we vacate the tunnels, the better.¡±

    Briony¡¯s amber eyes darted back and forth as she racked her brain for the answer. ¡°Not far,¡± she said, drawing the information from memory. ¡°Keep following this passage until the next fork, take a left, and there¡¯ll be an exit just beyond that.¡±

    Oralia nodded her agreement and then realized Briony had no way of knowing. Still, she dared not speak anymore than necessary. The faint sounds coming from behind were growing steadily clearer, indicating it was time for them to be on their way. She gave the rope a gentle tug before setting off, moving as quickly and quietly as the cramped passage would allow.

    They¡¯d reached the fork in the passage when the light from the seer¡¯s trap flared to life behind them. A startled yelp rang out, followed by muttered cursing as the unsuspecting witch fought his way free. Several voices responded, each of them hailing from a different section of the tunnel system. Oralia darted down the left passageway as the muffled thump of thundering footsteps closed in around them.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    An icy chill rippled through her veins, awakened by the sudden concentration of magic. Drawing the food in, how thoughtful of you, orc. It has been too long since I¡¯ve had a substantial feed. These offerings will do nicely.

    She¡¯d found the fork in the passage and gone left, as instructed. Where in the seven realms of chaos was the blasted ladder? Oralia snapped her tusks together softly as she scoured the narrowing passage for signs of the exit. Her heartbeat doubled as the enemy drew closer. With their cover blown, the soldiers abandoned their previous sense of stealth in favor of speed. Multiple sets of fast footsteps thundered down the tunnel in Oralia and Briony¡¯s direction.

    Ladder, ladder, where the fuck is the ladder?

    Come now, don¡¯t do that, the dark entity whispered. Turn back and let us face them together. I cannot afford to have you die, remember?

    Oralia found it, at last. She reached the ladder and urged Briony to ascend ahead of her with an ungentle push. Oralia¡¯s heart leapt into her throat as the leading set of footsteps reached the fork in the passage and hurtled towards her.

    The cold beneath her skin writhed in anticipation. This one is strong, orc. Suitable, perhaps, as a replacement vessel.

    Briony reached the top of the ladder and threw her shoulder against the sealed hatch. The lid¡¯s rusted hinges squealed as it opened, allowing a shaft of dim light to filter down from above. The sudden illumination blurred Oralia¡¯s vision as she tore her way up the rickety ladder with the speed and desperation of a rat escaping the cat¡¯s jaws.

    No! Go back. The dark entity raged within her. Do as I instruct, and I will allow you and your unborn child to walk away with your lives.

    She could ensure that herself. Oralia reached the hatchway and fought her way through, grabbing on to whatever handholds she could find on the outside. Briony seized her by the arm and assisted her the rest of the way through. Once free, Oralia turned and slammed the hatch shut, eyes darting across the dark landscape in search of something heavy to weigh it down. Her answer came in the form of a giant, lichen covered boulder.

    ¡°Stand over the exit,¡± Oralia ordered as she stooped to retrieve it, gritting her teeth as she heaved with her legs bent. She walked it several steps before dropping the boulder over the wooden hatch. It wouldn¡¯t hold long against witches, but enough, perhaps, to allow her and Briony to disappear into the woods with a decent head start.

    ¡°Do you know where we are?¡± Oralia panted, wiping the sheen of perspiration from her eyes.

    Briony didn¡¯t answer. She lifted her head instead, nostrils flaring as she tested the air. Her eyes went wide, completely rimmed in white. ¡°I smell smoke.¡±

    Oralia drew air in through her nostrils and ran it across her tongue. The breeze was heavy with ash and smoke. Oralia¡¯s gaze met Briony¡¯s. She saw a flash of panic dart across the faun¡¯s stricken face.

    ¡°Briony,¡± Oralia started, but it was too late.

    The faun took off at top speed, crashing through the thick underbrush.

    Oralia sprinted after her, leaping over entire thickets when possible and plowing through when it wasn¡¯t. She was running at full speed and, still, the space between her and Briony grew further by the second. Keeping pace was infinitely harder when pitted against a species born to run. Oralia set her jaw and continued on, wincing as the worsening stitch in her side reminded her that her aging body was no longer suited for such a task.

    Oralia didn¡¯t know how long she followed Briony¡¯s haphazard trail. Her head insisted it had only been minutes, but her legs argued for hours. Her lungs didn¡¯t care how much time had passed so long as she stopped before they collapsed in on themselves. The smell of smoke grew thicker, burning the inside of her nasal passages and down her throat, into her chest as she ran.

    A steep hill rose above her. The trail of trampled ferns told her Briony had gone up this way. Grudgingly, with her lungs seizing and leaden legs threatening to buckle, Oralia staggered her way onward. She found Briony at the top, staring out over the dark woods. There was a fire in the distance. A dark plume of smoke billowed above it, spiraling skyward like a beacon.

    ¡°That¡¯s my house,¡± Briony whimpered. The distant firelight flickered in her eyes as she watched the flames engulf her home, spellbound by the dancing blaze. ¡°Every instinct in my body is telling me to go down there and rip them a new one. To fight back. To try and save the people they¡¯re about to hurt. But we can¡¯t do that, can we?¡±

    A wave of grief crashed over Oralia, dispelling the last of her strength. He caught herself against a tree as her stiff legs finally gave out. The word felt like serrated glass against her swollen throat. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Argh!¡± It had been a rhetorical question no doubt. But the answer infuriated Briony all the same. She paced back and forth through the tall grass, kicking at the ground. ¡°We escaped their net and this is their way of drawing us back in, isn¡¯t it? And the fucked up thing is that it¡¯s working!¡±

    Oralia watched the dancing flames, unable to blink away the hot tears welling up within her eyes. There was a chance they had gotten away. Sascha could be hunkered down, hiding somewhere, waiting for the heat to die down before he went looking for her. Just as she should have been doing.

    Briony continued to pace. She clasped her hands behind her back as she swept back and forth, racking her brains for a solution. ¡°They found my place and the tunnel systems. Someone talked. Which means the realm probably raided the other safehouses as well.¡±

    ¡°Briony, look.¡± With the cottage fire burning bright, Oralia hadn¡¯t noticed the other, smaller lights glowing within the woods below. They were nothing more than pinpricks of light weaving through the dark trees. ¡°Those are lanterns.¡±

    The faun stopped pacing long enough to observe. She tilted her horns to the side, confused. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°The soldiers are sweeping the woods.¡± Oralia felt a small lift as her spirits picked themselves off the floor and dusted off. ¡°They are looking for stragglers. Some must have gotten away.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good news.¡± Briony appeared to be desperate for some form of silver lining, no matter how small. ¡°We should go find the stragglers then, right? Before the soldiers do?¡±

    Oralia pushed off from the tee and placed her hand on the faun¡¯s shoulder. It was not a gesture of comfort, but a means to ensure Briony didn¡¯t take off on foot a second time. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°We lie low. If anyone escapes their net, we will find them when the forest is no longer crawling with soldiers.¡±

 221 - The Dog That Caught The Carriage

    The remainder of the journey from the flatlands to the Adderwood border took three days and was unremarkable in almost every way. This in itself was surprising, considering Daana¡¯s small company was still being followed by an untold number of goblins. The curious onlookers kept their distance, however, seemingly content to catch a glimpse of the infamous Snaglebrag Flint from afar.

    Although the trailing goblins left the traveling party unbothered, their ever-lurking presence was having a noticeable effect on Snag. He hadn¡¯t said much since the encounter with his den brother, but Daana caught the melancholic glances he slipped over his shoulder when he thought no one was looking. His long ears stayed drooped and his leathery skin looked less green than normal. And then there were the sighs. Long, pitiful sounding things that grew more frequent as the hours in the saddle slowly inched past.

    Ashwyn normally excelled at lightening even the dreariest of moods, but she was as miserable as Snag. The last three days she hadn¡¯t done more than eat and sleep when she wasn¡¯t preoccupied with keeping herself from slumping off her horse.

    ¡°There it is,¡± Snag announced from his position as the lead rider. ¡°The great and mighty Adderwood border.¡±

    Daana shielded her eyes against the gray light provided by the overcast sky and squinted. The vast, undulating sea of brown and tan grasses extended nearly all the way to the horizon, where it was bisected by a snaking river. Beyond the river, the open tundra stretched a ways before disappearing beneath a scraggly tree line. The trees grew thicker, until eventually the ground was lost to sight altogether, swallowed by the mighty Adderwood forest.

    Daana had expected to feel an overwhelming sense of relief. They¡¯d successfully reached Adderwood and were one step closer to finding Oralia and proving to Daana¡¯s mother that she was both competent and capable. It took her by surprise when it was tears of sadness, not joy, that stung the edges of her eyes.

    ¡°Good gods. I know why that one is blubbering all the time,¡± Snag said, gesturing to Ashwyn who wore the misery on her face openly and without shame. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, girl, huh? Did you get broken up with too when I wasn¡¯t looking?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± Daana¡¯s voice trailed as she smudged her tears away with the back of her sleeve. She took a quick breath before finding the strength to finish her thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you.¡±

    The tattered remnants of Snag¡¯s left ear raised slightly higher than the other. ¡°Am I going somewhere?¡±

    ¡°No, see that¡¯s the thing. I don¡¯t think you are.¡±

    Snag¡¯s befuddled expression indicated that he was not following her, admittedly, scattered logic. ¡°You want to run that by me one more time?¡±

    ¡°You got us to the border, as asked. You¡¯re part¡¯s done and I think you should stay.¡± Daana found it suddenly difficult to look him in the eye and averted her gaze elsewhere. It didn¡¯t help ease her pooling sadness, but it made talking slightly easier. ¡°Your family welcomed you back with open arms, Snag. They practically begged you to come home. Let¡¯s not kid ourselves, you don¡¯t have a stake in this war. You deserve to sit this one out with people who want to be with you.¡±

    His voice cracked with hurt. ¡°You don¡¯t want me?¡±

    ¡°Of course I want you! If I had my way, you¡¯d stick around forever. But that¡¯s fair. Not to you. You deserve to be happy and I think staying in the flatlands might actually be your chance to have that.¡± Daana shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, fighting the fresh crop of tears that trickled down her face. The crisp air burned against the hot tears, which was a bit of a relief actually, as it served to distract her from the hurt welling up on the inside. ¡°You helped me find my family and now maybe it¡¯s my turn to send you to yours.¡±

    ¡°She makes a good point!¡± a disembodied voice called from the surrounding grass.

    ¡°Lots of points!¡± another readily agreed.

    A third said, ¡°Come be happy, Snaglebrag. Join your family and leave the gloomy orc and elf behind.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Ashwyn straight ahead with a scowl, as if ignoring the newcomers would make them cease to exist. ¡°The bacon bandits are back.¡±

    ¡°No we¡¯re not.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s nobody here but us wild grasses.¡±

    Ashwyn clicked her tusks at the three young goblins. ¡°You brats better scram or I¡¯m going make good on my threat to eat you. Goddess knows I¡¯m hungry enough to try!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not feelings, orc. You can¡¯t eat us!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have to work to catch us anyway.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°Yeah! An¡¯ if you move as slow as you think, we¡¯re gonna be just fine.¡±

    Their taunting served as the final nail in their shared coffin. Ashwyn not only reached her breaking point, but went hurtling over it like a pole vaulter conquering a wall. She leapt from her steed and barreled into the long grass at a speed fueled by untethered rage. Daana remained seated, watching the chase unfold with fascination. Although she¡¯d seen Snag gallop on all fours when the situation called for it, Daana hadn¡¯t realized orcs could do the same. Ashwyn stayed low to the ground, concealed by the wild overgrowth as she hunted her prey down with startling agility.

    A thunderous roar lit the air seconds before she jumped. Ashwyn¡¯s burly form sailed over the top of the tundra grass before it plunged back into the tangle of vegetation. The pounce must have been successful because, after a short tousle, complete with lots of undignified shrieking, the orc stood and strode out of the grass, carrying a squirming goblin by its ankle.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me!¡± the goblin wailed. Daana recognized him as Twig, the tallest of the three goblin teenagers. Twig suddenly didn¡¯t look very tall hanging upside down by an orc three times his size. ¡°It was the others that said all that nasty stuff. I like orcs.¡±

    Ashwyn came to a standstill alongside Daana¡¯s horse, her wailing prize still in hand. She held the goblin at arm¡¯s length as the anger drained from her curled lips. ¡°Huh,¡± she said, broad shoulders heaving with each labored breath. ¡°I kinda feel like the dog that caught the carriage here.¡±

    ¡°Put me down!¡± Twig sobbed.

    A smirk broke across Snag¡¯s gnarled features. ¡°Now, now, show some follow through, Ashwyn. You caught the damn thing, now eat it.¡±

    ¡°No, no, no! Don¡¯t do that! I¡¯ll make you sick.¡± Twig ceased his useless struggling and twisted his head, eyes darting across his upside down surroundings until his stare settled on Daana. ¡°Elf, help me! You don¡¯t want my death on your conscience, do you? Talk some sense into the big meany.¡±

    Apparently even teenagers could pick up on the fact that Daana was a giant softie. Still, it¡¯d be worthwhile to try and get something out of the altercation before Ashwyn grew bored of her new plaything. She addressed her companions instead. ¡°It seems shortsighted to eat him straight away. Shouldn¡¯t we press him for information first? Ask a few questions? See what he knows?¡±

    ¡°My only question is what goblin tastes like.¡± Ashwyn¡¯s threatening smile consisted almost entirely of bared teeth. ¡°And I¡¯m about to find out.¡±

    Daana slid from her shaggy horse onto the ground. Placing her hands on her hips, she strode closer, only stopping until she and Twig were inches apart. ¡°What are you doing out here anyway? I thought we told you to stay away.¡±

    ¡°Nothing! Just enjoying the outdoors, is all.¡±

    He knows you¡¯re the softie. Prove him wrong. Make him squirm.

    Daana narrowed her eyes, channeling some of the venom from her expression into her voice. ¡°Do you know what happened to the last little runt who lied to us? Ashwyn took a stick, just like this one¡± ¡ª Daana ripped a hollow reed from the soft dirt and rolled it around in her hands ¡ª ¡°and stuck it through his skull and gave it a good stir. Turned his brain to soup. And then, once it was nothing more than pink sludge, she slurped it through the stick like a straw just like this.¡±

    Twig wasn¡¯t the only one scared speechless by Daana¡¯s disturbing slurping sound. Both Ashwyn and Snag were staring at her with their mouths agape, horrified.

    Apparently we draw the line at pink sludge soup. Noted.

    Considering the damage was already done, Daana supposed the only thing left to do was to stay committed to her new role as the deranged elf. It was better than being softie, at least. Daana took the hollow reed in both hands and snapped it, smiling when the splintering crack jolted all three back to their senses. ¡°Are you still with us, friend?¡± she said to Twig. ¡°It looks like you might have blacked out on me for a second there.¡±

    Twig¡¯s mouth trembled as a babble of senseless sounds rolled off his tongue.

    ¡°Oh good. There you are.¡± Daana tapped the broken end of the reed against his cheek. ¡°Anyway, what was it you were saying about being out here?¡±

    ¡°Our den leader sent us!¡± The words flew out of Twig¡¯s mouth faster than he could string them together. ¡°Word is the infamous Snaglebrag turned down his familial den. He¡¯s free game now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hunting him?¡±

    ¡°Hunt?¡± The young goblin¡¯s face scrunched in genuine confusion. ¡°No. To recruit, dummy.¡±

    Daana raised one eyebrow at him challengingly. ¡°Dummy?¡±

    Twig¡¯s head shrank into his shoulders as he stammered his apology. ¡°Sorry, miss. It¡¯s all this blood rushing to my head. Makes me say things I don¡¯t mean.¡±

    Daana waved her hand at Ashwyn and said, ¡°You can put him down now. I¡¯m certain he¡¯s not foolish enough to try and outrun you a second time.¡±

    The sour look on Ashwyn¡¯s face read as ¡®oh, I take orders from you now?¡¯ Thankfully the orc bit back her displeasure and played along, flipping the goblin head over heels and setting him back on his feet. She kept a firm grasp on the back of his neck. Not to keep him from running, Daana realized, but from toppling over. The sudden quake in the poor boy¡¯s legs looked severe enough to drop him on his face.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve sufficiently scared the piss out of the scoundrel. Congratulations.¡± With a grudging sigh, Snag abandoned his horse and wandered over. Daana didn¡¯t know whether it was curiosity or pity that fueled his involvement, but Snag snatched the broken reed from her hands and wagged it at her. ¡°I¡¯ll take it from here, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Daana had only been playing the part as a means to acquire information. Which failed to explain why she suddenly felt cheated, like the fox poised to lose its hard earned kill to the wolf. ¡°You choose to swoop in now? After I¡¯ve done all the work to soften him up?¡±

    ¡°Simmer down, secretary,¡± Snag chided. ¡°Your part¡¯s done here.¡±

    Daana shifted her weight to her right foot to keep from stomping it. ¡°I haven¡¯t been your secretary in weeks!¡±

    ¡°I know. I miss it more and more each day. It was a simpler time. Quieter, people not hounding me from dawn to dusk.¡± Snag tossed the stick over his shoulder, adding wistfully, ¡°Less talk of brain soup.¡±

 222 - Worth More Than Gold

    Daana stepped reluctantly to the side, surrendering the rest of the interrogation to Snag. He swaggered forward, sizing the young goblin up and down. Snag¡¯s wrinkled expression was caught somewhere between bored and woefully unimpressed. Unlike Twig, who was a jittery mess. He twiddled his clawed hands and kept glancing over his shoulder at the surrounding tundra grass, as though considering whether or not to make a break for it. It would be pointless to try, of course, considering Ashwyn¡¯s proximity. She¡¯d grab him before the young goblin got more than two steps in.

    Twig must have arrived at the same conclusion as he remained where he was, resigned to his fate. He cowered lower when Snag came to a stop in front of him, separated only by a small stretch of ground. ¡°I didn¡¯t do nothing,¡± Twig said, in the event Snag hadn¡¯t heard the first three times he¡¯d claimed as much. ¡°Just let me go. I won¡¯t bother you no more.¡±

    ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t do anything. I believe you.¡± Snag flashed the sort of smile one would expect from a snake. ¡°I just want some clarification, is all. You said some things that piqued my interest and it¡¯s going to drive me crazy until I know what you meant. You¡¯ll be free to go after that. Promise.¡±

    Whether or not Twig believed a word out of Snag¡¯s mouth was irrelevant. The young goblin was trapped either way. Wordlessly, he bobbed his trembling head in agreement.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Snag withdrew the intricately carved pipe from the confines of his jacket and offered it his interrogee. ¡°Now, first thing¡¯s first, you¡¯re gonna assure all your mates out there that you¡¯ve come to no harm and that they can all just stay where they are.¡±

    Twig stared at the instrument with wide eyes, unable to look away.

    ¡°Ashwyn clunk you on the head too hard, boy? It¡¯s a pipe, not a knife. I ain¡¯t gonna stick you with it.¡±

    Nervously, Twig accepted the pipe and produced a series of sharp notes. A second pipe responded, its shrill screech dampened by distance. Even Daana¡¯s sharp elven ears couldn¡¯t pinpoint where it was coming from amongst the sea of swaying tundra grass.

    Snag listened and then, once the message was delivered in full, nodded his satisfaction. ¡°Good. Now that that¡¯s taken care of, let¡¯s get down to business, shall we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a business,¡± Twig wailed.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have much in the way of smarts either, boy, but we won¡¯t let that stop you.¡± Snag drew his arm around Twig¡¯s shoulder in an unusual display of chumminess. The disgust must have shown on Daana¡¯s face because the look he shot her warned that now was not the time to mention it. And also, there would never be a good time to mention it. Ever.

    Snag gave Twig a gentle shake, as if attempting to jiggle the answers loose like pieces of silver from a coin jar. ¡°Now what¡¯s all this talk about Snaglebrag rejecting his old clan, huh?¡±

    ¡°Our den leader said you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Snaglebrag, not me,¡± Snag corrected with an uncomfortably tight smile.

    Twig attempted again. ¡°He claimed Snag turned down his clan¡¯s offer for reconciliation. Not really a surprise, boss said. They¡¯re the pithiest of all the clans. Can¡¯t fault Snaglebrag for not wanting to associate with such a sorry lot.¡±

    Snag¡¯s ears started to droop. ¡°Is that so?¡±

    ¡°Word is he had to bribe Fangle to get him to leave him alone.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    Twig¡¯s confidence was on the mend. He stood taller, growing more animated as he got to the good part of his explanation. ¡°Anyway, now that the old den has been officially turned down, the boss said it was time to make a move. He tasked us with bringing Snag in for a sit down so he could make an offer you couldn¡¯t refuse.¡±

    Snag was too caught in thought to catch Twig¡¯s mistake and reaffirm, once more, that he and the infamous Snaglebrag Flint were not one of the same. Snag removed his arm from Twig¡¯s shoulder and stepped away, fiddling with the ring strung through his lip. ¡°And what happens to the Fangle¡¯s den?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Twig said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°They keep scrounging in the dirt for scraps like the bottom feeders they are, and you ascend to the top of the goblin hierarchy. Boss is prepared to offer whatever you want. Power, status, munchies, you get to have it all.¡±

    ¡°And what do you get out of this?¡± Snag demanded.

    Twig puffed out his scrawny chest and stood, if not straighter, something that looked less like a sagging weed. ¡°Boss promised us our first bangle.¡± He pointed to one of the paint chipped fishing lures hanging from his left ear. ¡°A real one. Made of gold.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have status after that. And respect.¡±

    Having given up playing guard, Ashwyn moved to Daana¡¯s side. The orc leaned closer and whispered under her breath. ¡°His eye¡¯s doing that twitchy thing again. Should we be worried?¡±

    Snag¡¯s eyes darted in their direction, having undoubtedly heard regardless of Ashwyn¡¯s attempt to keep her volume low. ¡°Stay here, boy.¡± He started in their direction with slow, reluctant steps. ¡°I have to convene with these two a moment.¡±

    If Daana wasn¡¯t concerned before, she certainly was now.

    ¡°So,¡± Snag started, once he¡¯d reached them.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Daana grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him closer. ¡°We¡¯ve got goblins all around, remember? We¡¯d better do this right and huddle.¡±

    Ashwyn rolled her head back with a groan. ¡°Good goddess, Peaches. No.¡±

    ¡°Come on!¡± Daana said. ¡°You guys never want to do what I want to do.¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s stupid.¡± The orc stubbornly stood her ground, as if huddling would somehow tarnish her already less than stellar reputation. An odd concern considering she¡¯d been running around on all fours terrorizing a bunch of teenagers not ten minutes before. ¡°Nobody actually huddles to make a plan.¡±

    Maybe it was an attempt to lighten the mood. Maybe Daana was using it as an excuse to delay the inevitable even just a few seconds more. Regardless of her underlying reasons, she kept at it with the sort of cheerful desperation of someone moments away from losing their best friend. ¡°Not true. I used to see it all of the time. And just once in my life, I¡¯d like to be inside the huddle and not the one standing on the outside wondering what sort of nasty things they¡¯re saying about me.¡±

    ¡°Peaches, that¡¯s the saddest thing you¡¯ve said so far.¡±

    Daana widened her eyes pitifully. ¡°Please?¡±

    Trading exasperating glances, Snag and Ashwyn gave in, reluctantly forming a huddle with Daana. The positioning was a little awkward considering the orc had to crouch and the goblin had to be on damn near tiptoe, but they managed it in the end. Ashwyn¡¯s gruff voice conveyed every inch of her mounting discomfort. ¡°Alright, Snaggy, spit it out. What¡¯s going on, mate? You look like how I feel and, suffice to say, it¡¯s not a pretty sight.¡±

    Her assessment wasn¡¯t wrong. The color from Snag¡¯s weathered features had gone from green to gray, as if the life was slowly being sapped out of his body. ¡°I think I made a mistake with the way I handled Fangle,¡± Snag admitted. ¡°By turning him down, I made the old den¡¯s reputation even worse. Now nobody¡¯s going to want anything to do with them.¡±

    ¡°You said you didn¡¯t care,¡± Ashwyn reminded him.

    ¡°I say lots of things I don¡¯t mean.¡± A cold look from Ashwyn convinced Snag to keep the explanation coming. ¡°And anyway, I meant it in the ¡®I don¡¯t care to help you¡¯ sort of way. I didn¡¯t intend to make things for them worse.¡±

    Daana piped up with, ¡°How do you clear something like that up?¡±

    Snag¡¯s gaze dropped to his feet, unable to meet her gaze. ¡°I think you already know.¡±

    Damn right I did. Unfortunately, this particular instance of correctness didn¡¯t come with the usual sense of accomplishment. Grief swelled up inside of her instead. Daana shifted her grasp from Snag¡¯s shoulder to his hand, fighting another bout of spontaneous tears. ¡°Would it be rude to say I told you so right now? Would you prefer it if I just think it?¡±

    He, too, seemed incapable of expressing his feelings in a mature fashion. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you where to shove it if you do.¡±

    Oh gods. He was really considering it. Really, really considering it. And yes, she may have been the one to suggest staying, but that didn¡¯t mean she wanted it to happen. Since when did anyone listen to her anyways? Daana tried her best to smile around the pain shredding her to pieces on the inside. ¡°We¡¯ve got to come through here again on our way back. We¡¯ll be sure to stop in and say hi.¡±

    ¡°You will?¡± Snag said.

    Ashwyn thumped his shoulder, hard, from the way he grimaced. ¡°Of course! We¡¯re going to need directions, after all. You know Peaches and I didn¡¯t pay a lick of attention to how you got us this far.¡±

    Panic darted behind Snag¡¯s yellow eyes. Daana could tell he wanted to fight the decision. He wanted to scream, complain, argue why it was the most foolish idea ever conceived, and then yell at them some more for not talking him out of it. Daana squeezed his hand again. She gave not the answer she wanted, but the one he needed. ¡°Go. We¡¯ll be fine without you.¡±

    ¡°Promise you¡¯re not going to do anything stupid?¡±

    ¡°I would never promise that.¡±

    Snag turned to Ashwyn, his face contorting in the strangest way, as if it was fighting the urge to melt off and slump into the dirt between his clawed feet. ¡°I know better than to ask, but at least try to do things the smart way? For my sake? So I can sleep at night?¡±

    The orc offered a highly convincing shrug. ¡°Sure, mate.¡±

    Reluctantly, Daana released his gnarled hand and threw her hood up over her head as she walked swiftly back to her horse, fighting the pressure building behind her eyes. Wayward tears slipped free and trickled down her cheeks regardless. ¡°You¡¯re going to do great.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you start blubbering again. All it¡¯s going to do is send me away faster.¡± Ignoring the moisture pooling in his own eyes, Snag turned back to Twig, muttering as he unfastened one of the bangles from his tattered ear. ¡°You see this, boy? This here is a real mark of status. I didn¡¯t get this one from running some silly errand. This was earned through blood and grit.¡±

    Twig wrinkled his nose at the curious disk-shaped dangle. ¡°It¡¯s not gold.¡±

    ¡°Dragon scale,¡± Snag replied. ¡°Carved it myself after I killed the beast using nothing but a clothesline and a cheese knife.¡±

    Daana sorely wanted to point out that she¡¯d witnessed him pick it up at a vendor stall three months prior, but decided against shattering whatever illusion Snag was crafting. Twig was fully enraptured, staring wide eyed at the bangle as if it was the answer to all his life¡¯s problems.

    ¡°You want a real mark of status, boy?¡± Snag held the prize just out of reach as he outlined his conditions. ¡°Spread the word. Tell all the dens in the area that Snaglebrag Flint has come home and he¡¯s going to restore his clan to their former might. Do that, and your first bangle will be worth more than gold.¡±

 223 - Welcome Home

    Many years ago, before the death of his father, the failed assassination attempt, and the resulting loss of his eyesight, Rasp used to wander the neighboring territories at whim. It was mostly boring, unexciting forest, but occasionally he would stumble across a stretch of farmland. To an ordinary citizen of the realm, a farmstead was just another component of everyday life. Home to some, a familiar sight to many, a passing dot along the carriage road, if you were really lucky. But to Rasp, an outsider who had spent his entire life crammed inside the colorless belly of a mountain, farms were a never ending source of wonder.

    There were cows and horses to watch, dogs to befriend, and enough rats in the hayloft to keep his stomach full for days. But it was the people who¡¯d fascinated him the most. Rasp never approached any of them outright ¡ª except for Priss, of course, the rebellious farmer¡¯s daughter who¡¯d happily demonstrated that haylofts had uses beyond catching rats. Priss had been the exception to the rule, though. Rasp had kept his distance from all other citizens of the realm, content to watch their antics from afar. The farm folk were always coming and going, up from dawn until dusk, laboring away on their little patch of heaven.

    It was on one such visit, deep in the late autumn months, that Rasp discovered the love of his life. And no, he wasn¡¯t talking about Priss. He¡¯d been wrestling with the farm dogs behind the barn when an unfamiliar scent struck him low. It was a warm smell, thick with the sweet, tangy aroma of plums and a savory kick of thyme. Abandoning the dogs, Rasp had followed it to the small farm cottage. He found himself near the kitchen, with the love of his life cooling on an open windowsill.

    He had never seen a galette before and, consequently, had no idea what it was. But, at that moment, Rasp realized he was in love. Looking back, he wished he¡¯d left money and not a catch of dead rats as payment on the sill, but his understanding of how the outside world operated was tragically undeveloped at the time. He took off with the pastry as fast as his legs would go, nearly dropping his prize several times on account of the blistering heat radiating from the not-yet-cooled plate.

    Finding a suitable tree with plenty of leaf cover, Rasp climbed into the boughs and ate the galette out of sight. The first bite nearly made him cry. It was the best thing he¡¯d ever tasted. Warm, sweet, and buttery, with just enough hit of thyme to make the inside of his nose itch. He devoured it in a single sitting and couldn¡¯t move for hours, even after the screams from the farmhouse sent the farmer and his sons racing up and down the property with their pitchforks and shovels in hand.

    Rasp never forgot that galette. Sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, when nature was calling but he was still too cold to take care of business, he would drift between consciousness, dreaming of licking the dark, sticky syrup from his fingertips. Even now, the smell of caramelized plums and thyme called to him, beckoning him to come find it again, and relive one of the best moments of his life.

    Admittedly, given Rasp¡¯s circumstances, it seemed strange that memories of a long-gone dessert had become the focus of his thoughts. But after spending an untold number of days trapped underground, being paraded about as designated monster bait, his memories were one of the few safe havens he had left. In some ironic twist of fate, Rasp himself had become the plum galette. At least in the poetic sense. While his companions had kindly not sealed him inside a buttery pastry shell destined for the oven, he was food nonetheless. Fortunately for him, being monster food was relatively easy. All he had to do was sit, wait, and occasionally throw out a spell or two to drive the nameless one mad with hunger.

    All in all, not bad, so long as you ignored the part where he stood a good chance of getting eaten.

    The days passed uneventfully. Rasp slept in the open, under an endless expanse of soft, green glowing algae in what was once a grand colosseum. It even had a complex system of interconnected rooms built beneath the stands which, according to know-it-all Hop, was called a ¡®hypogeum¡¯. While Rasp didn¡¯t care much for the name, nor the accompanying history lesson, he did like discovering that a few of the hypogeum¡¯s old rooms were still filled with abandoned weaponry. He liked that very much. Particularly the part that involved him dragging weapons in and out all day, creating nifty piles in the open arena area above. For what reason? Other than to be a nuisance and play with stabby things, he wasn¡¯t so sure there was one.

    It gave him something to preoccupy his time, at the very least. And good gods did he need that more than ever. While he was free to wander the arena grounds and accompanying hypogeum at will, Rasp wasn¡¯t allowed beyond the colosseum walls. Keeping him locked inside was for his own protection, Bromm assured him. The dwarf translator told many a story of a spellbound citizen following the beast¡¯s voice to its lair, destined to never be seen again.

    Rasp didn¡¯t like those stories and preferred to think of pie instead.

    Sometimes, when he wasn''t sleeping, griping, or building giant piles of swords, he and Whisper would practice his magic. His mentor seemed to have taken a special interest in Rasp¡¯s newfound glow spell. They spent hours working to harness the luminescence of the surrounding algae and channel it into a usable light source. At a reasonable glow, Rasp could hold the light for several minutes at a time, but Whisper kept pushing him to make it brighter. ¡®Like the sun¡¯ his mentor would tell him each time his attempts to push the spell to a satisfactory level failed to impress.

    Normally Rasp would have demanded to know why he needed to emulate the sun. He saved his breath as the inevitable answer would be ¡®the worm doesn¡¯t get to ask questions¡¯. Just like the worm wasn¡¯t allowed out of the locked colosseum, or allowed to be apart of the many, many hushed meetings his teammates had without him, or ask questions about how long this side adventure was going to fucking take. In the end, however, he suspected he knew the reason, but even that came with a host of problems.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    If the nameless one possessed the ability to read his thoughts, then it could theoretically know everything he knew. Ultimately, it was better for everyone if Rasp was kept in the dark. And while he felt slightly left out each time his friends left for one of their whispered team meetings, it wasn¡¯t forever. They always came back again, usually with food in hand and some residual argument to keep him entertained. Whisper retired in the evenings to the protection of the charmed chambers, but Faris and June always stayed the night with Rasp. As of late, Hop had started to hang around more and more as well.

    Their evenings together were quickly becoming Rasp¡¯s favorite part of the day. For one thing, no one was expecting him to train, and he could lounge at ease, trading stories beneath the otherworldly glow of the bioluminescent algae.

    ¡°So there I was¡ª¡± Faris, the natural born story-teller, had a flare for making even the most mundane shit sound fantastical. It didn¡¯t matter if Rasp had heard the story before or, better yet, been involved, he sat hanging on to every word just like the others ¡°¡ªalone, wet, freezing my ass off, and running for my life. It didn¡¯t know what it was at first, but it was big, and it kept on my trail like a wolf on a kill.¡±

    ¡°Wolves don¡¯t chase kills,¡± June interjected. ¡°By definition, a kill¡¯s already dead. You mean prey. Wolves chase prey. And usually as a pack, not as a solitary¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shhh,¡± Hop shushed. He made an ideal audience member. Whereas Rasp and June made it their unspoken mission to derail Faris¡¯s retelling as often as possible, Hop actively participated, encouraging the story to unfold in the most dramatic way possible. ¡°Will you please let him finish?¡±

    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t worry,¡± Rasp said. ¡°Faris doesn¡¯t mind a little edging now and then.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means, but I get the distinct feeling that I¡¯m better off that way,¡± Hop replied.

    June, naturally, insisted on remedying Hop¡¯s willful ignorance. ¡°It means¡ª¡±

    ¡°It was a bear! Biggest one I¡¯d ever seen.¡± Faris kept the story going in spite of the constant interruptions from his easily distracted audience. ¡°It chased me for three days before I succumbed to exhaustion. I didn¡¯t expect to wake up again. And when I did, I was even more surprised to find the damn thing sitting on top of me.¡±

    ¡°Oh please,¡± June muttered. ¡°It¡¯s not like you would have preferred me sitting on your in my other body.¡±

    Faris flapped one of his ears. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind your human form if clothing wasn¡¯t such a foreign concept to your family.¡±

    ¡°No way around it, I¡¯m afraid,¡± June said. ¡°I¡¯ve got to take the clothes off before I shift, otherwise they¡¯ll rip. And once I¡¯m in bear form, there¡¯s no practical way to carry them. Kind of ruins the illusion to see a giant bear carrying a bag in its mouth, after all. Ergo, I simply travel without. A little nudity never hurt anybody.¡± She paused, adding with a dramatic sigh, ¡°That is until fuss bucket here insisted he carry some for me in his pack.¡±

    An unexpected yawn escaped Rasp¡¯s open mouth. It was the third one in nearly as many minutes. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, he could feel the weight of the day¡¯s activities pulling his heavy eyelids further down. There was no use fighting it, he supposed. Rasp drew his blanket tight around his shoulders and settled onto the ground. Faris and June¡¯s competing voices rose and fell above his head, their words slowly melding together into a soothing hum.

    He was in that in-between state, not quite asleep, not fully awake, when the spongy dirt beneath him began to vibrate. It was gentle at first, like the buzz of a hummingbird¡¯s wings in flight. The intensity doubled, tripled, quadrupled in the span of mere seconds as something worked its way upwards. With a thunderous boom, the dirt tore open, sending a wave of rock and dirt raining down over the enclosed arena. Rasp scrambled, shielding his head against the onslaught as he rolled to avoid the worst of it.

    Finally, the buckling ground settled. Rasp squinted near where the rift had torn the arena asunder, gasping when a blurry shadow hauled its gargantuan body from the crevice. A soothing voice rippled across his mind as the beast slithered nearer, its great head rearing in the air high above him. My dear, I have been calling for you. Why do you not answer?

    Rasp jumped to his feet and staggered backwards. The soft moss and dirt pulsed beneath him, as if the ground was alive, thrumming with a heartbeat of its own. He opened his mouth to scream but the voice swept over his mind, quieting his troubled thoughts.

    Do not be afraid. I am here to help you. Come with me and I will make everything as it should be.

    Rasp¡¯s sixth sense buzzed a warning around the edges of his mind, like a fly trapped in a web, but he couldn¡¯t discern the individual words. Panic overtook him as his instinct to fight battled against the rush of calmness surging through his veins.

    A firm hand seized him by the shoulder, yanking him from the path of danger. ¡°Rasp!¡± Hop¡¯s voice was muffled as though he were yards away and not standing right next to him. ¡°The glow spell now!¡±

    Rasp obeyed without question. He drew within, summoning every available thread of magic as he pictured a glow as bright as the sun. The power built within his hands, fighting his control until, at last, Rasp released and willed the light into existence. Three things happened as a result. The first was the blinding light that pulsed across the colosseum, highlighting the decrepit arena in an eerie green glow. Second was the resulting screech from the creature that was far too close to him than it should have been. Third was the blistering sting that struck Rasp¡¯s chest, causing him to stumble several steps backwards as a mysterious heat burrowed deep into his flesh and branched out.

    ¡°Hold up! Cut off his magic! It¡¯s not a borrowing dra¨C¡± The rest of Faris¡¯s warning was swallowed by distance. It was nothing more than an indistinguishable hum now, melding seamlessly amidst the other droning voices until all three vanished completely.

    The searing heat within Rasp¡¯s chest cooled. An overwhelming sense of peace caused his hands to fall uselessly to his sides, the spell on his lips forgotten. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes as the surrounding glow rained down from above, like algae-frosted snowflakes. He should¡¯ve been bothered that the light was dwindling, some minuscule portion of his mind insisted, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it¡¯d come. Pinpricks of light danced along the edges of Rasp¡¯s muddled vision as the earth began to sway in rhythm to the heartbeat thrumming beneath his feet.

    Hush now, my dear. Don¡¯t fret. Don¡¯t fight. Let go of the pain you¡¯ve been holding. You have no need for it anymore.

    The voice enveloped him in velvety softness as the fight drained from his body. With a muffled whimper, unaware of the screams coming from all around, Rasp closed his eyes and gave in to the darkness.

    Welcome home.

 224 - Foolish Talk

    Rasp awoke to the tantalizing smell of sweet plums, buttery crust, and thyme. His eyes fluttered open, blinking at the harsh light pouring in from the window. Sunspots dotted his vision for a few seconds before they cleared, giving way to a familiar room. He was seated on a pine bench, with his upper half slumped over a matching rectangular table. The tabletop was scarred, burned, and pitted from four generations of abuse. He ran his hand over the polished surface, feeling a smile pull at his lips when his fingertips brushed against the anatomical drawing he¡¯d etched into the grain as a teenager. No amount of buffing had ever been able to get it out.

    Mother insisted he sit in front of the etching at every meal afterwards, hopeful, perhaps, that if he stared at it over and over again, he would one day come to realize his shame. Unfortunately, all it did was make him giddy. Even now, he felt the irresistible itch to grab the nearest knife and add a few curly-q hairs.

    ¡°Is there where you¡¯ve been? I wondered why it was so quiet.¡± A woman strode into the room and heaved a stack of plates from one of the overcrowded shelves lining the wall. ¡°You¡¯re not carving anymore penises into my table, are you?¡±

    A sharp pain lanced through Rasp¡¯s chest. He sat straight, fighting his sudden inability to breathe. ¡°Mom?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± She hummed as she worked.

    ¡°It¡¯s you.¡± What a stupid thing to say. So stupid in fact, Rasp wasn¡¯t sure why he¡¯d said it. Of course it was her. He could see her clear as day, couldn¡¯t he? Why did that feel like it was out of the ordinary?

    Mother turned in his direction, pushing the dark auburn hair from her eyes. A soft smile hovered over her lips. ¡°Were you expecting someone else?¡±

    Words failed him. He felt happy and sad at the same time and, for the life of him, couldn¡¯t figure out why. Rasp wanted to push to his feet, rush over, and hold her in his arms and never let go again. But something was holding him back. There was a strange, squiggly feeling in the back of his skull. It pulsed, barely, like the former ache of a long-forgotten injury.

    Try as he might, his words still weren¡¯t behaving correctly. ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡±

    Mother waited patiently for him to finish.

    Gah! Why was this suddenly so hard? It was there, right on the tip of his tongue, but the harder he pursued it, the farther the old ache drifted out of reach.

    Mother¡¯s hands went to her hips. ¡°Are you going to finish your thought? I am what?¡±

    Unfortunately, her prompting did the opposite of what she intended and the word Rasp was searching for vanished from his memory. He blinked, attempting to recall what he¡¯d meant to say. She was¡­something. Something important. Something that made him sad. Except that had changed, because seeing her again made him less sad. Happy then? Was that it?

    Yes, he decided, as a tentative smile pulled across his downturned mouth. He was happy. Whatever it was he thought he knew, didn¡¯t matter anymore because everything was just how it was supposed to be. ¡°Never mind. It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Mother asked.

    Her smile made Rasp¡¯s spirits lift even higher. Whatever this inexplicable sense of happiness was, he never wanted it to end. It was as if all the frayed strings in his life had finally pulled together, resulting in a tapestry more beautiful than his wildest dreams. He just hadn¡¯t been able to see it before. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°Come on then.¡± Mother gestured for him to join her. ¡°Help me set the table.¡±

    ¡°You want me to help?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t let me set the table since Mul and I used your favorite plates for slingshot pra¡ª¡± The blood rushed from Rasp¡¯s head as he stood. He staggered forward, holding a hand to his eyes as he waited for the room to stop spinning. When he opened them again, the plates had moved from the back counter to the table. Cutlery had been laid out too, along with an assortment of mismatched goblets and neatly folded napkins.

    That was odd. The squiggly feeling was back at it again, wriggling around like a worm loose in his skull.

    Mother set the extra napkins down and approached, resting her hand on his shoulder. ¡°Are you alright, Raspberry?¡±

    Was he? Good gods, it felt like he was losing his mind. Things kept shifting on him and he couldn¡¯t tell if it was him or the things that were out of sorts. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    ¡°Look at me, dear.¡±

    Rasp did as she asked, taken aback by what he saw. Somewhere along the way, he¡¯d forgotten what she¡¯d looked like. How her smile could light a room. The way the lines between her eyebrows crinkled together when he compared her cooking to a bloated porcupine. He gazed into familiar eyes, deep like pools of green tranquility.

    An unexplained thought wormed free from his tongue. ¡°I thought you only had one eye.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s vision blurred as the room shifted again. This time, when he regained his composure, Mother was back standing alongside the counter, sorting utensils. Rasp opened his mouth to demand an explanation when a short, wiry man burst into the room, carrying a squealing child on his shoulders. ¡°There¡¯s my favorite bastard,¡± he said, setting the boy onto the ground. ¡°Go on. Go kick your dad in the shin like I showed you.¡±

    ¡°Not now. Get out,¡± Rasp commanded, refusing to let go of the thought else it might slip through his grasp once more. ¡°We¡¯re in the middle of something.¡±

    ¡°What? Too busy for your own damn son, Raspy?¡±

    His what? Rasp turned, locking eyes with the short man as the squirming sensation in the back of his head fell eerily still. A different feeling flooded his insides. Confusion, mostly. He had never felt at ease in this particular man¡¯s presence before, but the more he stared, the more the years of animosity melted away like ice during the breakup season. Even now, the word felt dirty in his mouth. ¡°Dad.¡±

    ¡°Son,¡± Father greeted in a similar fashion.

    For all his faults, Father could at least be counted on for one thing. He didn¡¯t put up with bullshit. Rasp tilted his head at him, watching his father¡¯s expression for its customary tells. ¡°Does any of this feel odd to you?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve always been odd to me, Raspberry. Can¡¯t be helped, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    That sounded right. Or at least like something his father would say. Chewing his lip, Rasp¡¯s gaze moved lower, realizing he¡¯d forgotten all about the small child that was now meandering dangerously in his direction. The boy looked like one of Bil¡¯s kids, but scrawnier. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Did you get hit on the head again, boy?¡± Father demanded with a laugh. ¡°Gods, I take your wee lad for a single afternoon and you forget him entirely.¡±

    Rasp startled backwards until his legs struck the bench and he sat to keep from falling over. Before he could protest, the boy was clambering into his lap. Rasp¡¯s first instinct was to shove the kid to the floor, but something stayed his hand. He looked the boy over, marveling at his dark wavy hair and brilliant brown eyes. There was a familiar warmth in the boy¡¯s expression. It pulled Rasp in, melting all of his former trepidations.

    Rasp reached out and ruffled the boy¡¯s hair, not sure why it was summoning tears to his eyes. This time, when the obnoxious squirming sensation returned, he ignored it. He didn¡¯t care anymore. Odd or not, this was a moment that he wanted to hold on to for as long as possible.

    ¡°You¡¯re bigger than I remember,¡± Rasp said to his son.

    ¡°See? I told you it would happen, didn¡¯t I?¡± Father shuffled from the doorway towards the table. ¡°One day they¡¯re wee little babes, and the next you¡¯re having to stand on tiptoe to see eye to eye.¡±

    The boy whipped his head around at the old man, mouth curled in protest. ¡°I¡¯m not a baby. I¡¯m big!¡±

    ¡°You are, aren¡¯t you?¡± Rasp said, his voice as soft as a whisper. It felt like he¡¯d been asleep for ages, living the day-to-day of a distant nightmare for so long, he¡¯d accepted it as reality. But he was awake now. The nightmare had faded save for a few lingering feelings that he just couldn¡¯t quite shake.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to report that your boy is a born huntsman,¡± Father said, settling into the chair at the head of the table. ¡°Leaps ahead of where you were at his age.¡±

    ¡°What would you know, old man?¡± Rasp said. ¡°Bil taught me to hunt, not you.¡±

    ¡°I guess that explains it then. The blind leading the blind.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s head jerked to attention. ¡°What was that?¡±

    Father seemed more interested in his drink. He drained half his mug in a single gulp before wiping the droplets from his silver whiskers with the back of his sleeve, ignoring the neatly folded napkin to his left. ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°What you just said.¡± Already, Rasp could feel the words dissipating from his memory. He tried to focus on them, but they turned to dust. Rasp struck his fist against the table with a resounding slam. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°Gods, Raspberry, have a drink already. You¡¯re acting all out of sorts.¡±

    Rasp¡¯s stare settled on the mug in front of him, brimming with a honey-colored liquid. The drink had always been there, hadn¡¯t it? What in the realm was wrong with him today? He really was losing his mind. Rasp raised the cup to his lips, barely tasting the warm ale that slid down his throat. Behind him, the rest of the family barged into the dining room, arranging themselves around the table.

    Rasp nearly spat his drink back up the moment a young woman placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. ¡°Excuse me?¡± he croaked, staring up at her wide-eyed.

    ¡°Is that any way to greet the love of your life?¡±

    Rasp set the mug back down, blinking hard. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about? You up and left me after our baby¡­¡± He paused, thoughts racing across his mind as he tried and failed to find the missing pieces of this puzzle. Something wasn¡¯t adding up. Rasp met her unflinching gaze. He¡¯d loved her, once. But not anymore. At least he didn¡¯t think so. Had it all been a dream? It felt like so much more had happened between then and now but for the life of him, he couldn¡¯t recall any of it.

    ¡°Ignore him,¡± Mother murmured as she moved about, setting various dishes onto the table. ¡°He¡¯s in his head again.¡±

    The young woman trailed her fingers down his arm. ¡°I think I might know how to snap him out of it.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking touch me!¡± Rasp slapped her hand away as an unknown fire lit within his belly, battling against the cool calmness that kept trying to extinguish the rising flames. ¡°Not after what you did. You said I was cursed, remember? And that it was my fault that¡­¡± Rasp¡¯s voice trailed, realizing he could no longer recall what horrendous misdeed had caused the irreparable rift between them.

    For a split second, the young woman¡¯s eyes went cold, like frost. Rasp remembered that look, and the way it used to shred his insides to minced meat. Before he could put his thoughts to words the room shifted again and the young woman was pink in the face and on the verge of tears. ¡°Why are you being so cruel?¡± she said, lower lip quivering. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you? You¡¯re not acting like yourself.¡±

    He didn¡¯t have anything to say to that. Heat flushed across his face as Rasp averted his gaze. The boy in his lap stared back up at him, brown eyes wide and glistening with the innocence of youth. The more they looked at each other, the more the surrounding calmness settled deeper in Rasp¡¯s bones, eating away at his unease. How could he yell in front of someone so innocent? That wasn¡¯t fair. The boy hadn¡¯t done anything wrong.

    Rasp was about to give in, to shut out the squirmy feeling in the back of his head and accept the calmness for what it was, when one final thought flashed across his mind. ¡°I don¡¯t know his name.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± one of his brothers chimed in from further down the table. ¡°Dumbass here doesn¡¯t remember what he named his own kid.¡±

    Rasp ignored the offender, too concentrated on extracting the details from his shifting memory to retaliate. ¡°We were waiting for his name day. We had a few picked out, I remember, I wrote a list on paper.¡± The mental image of that list being thrown in the fire darted before his eyes. He tried to latch onto it, to decipher its meaning, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

    ¡°You changed your mind at the last second,¡± the young woman reminded him, offering a placating smile.

    ¡°I did?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my first choice, but you seemed so excited, I couldn¡¯t tell you no. I¡¯ll admit, it¡¯s grown on me since.¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t I remember?¡± Rasp demanded, feeling his heartbeat spike once more. ¡°Why don¡¯t I remember his name? That¡¯s something I should remember, right? My own son¡¯s fucking name?¡±

    Mother and the young woman traded concerned looks before the latter supplied the answer. ¡°It¡¯s Faris.¡±

    Oh. Right. Now that they mentioned it, that name did sound familiar. A swell of relief broke over the top of him. Rasp relaxed back onto the bench, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. Gods, what was wrong with him? Faris was a good kid, the best son an undeserving dad could ask for. He loved Faris, and Faris loved him. Sure, they never actually said it out loud, but it was in the little things. The way Faris would call him names, like Dinglehead.

    ¡°Dinglehead?¡± Rasp managed to get the word out before the memory dissipated.

    ¡°Eat,¡± Mother commanded, shoving a slice of plum galette in his direction.

    It smelled heavenly, rich, sweet, and savory, all rolled into a buttery crust and piping hot from the oven. The thick aroma of thyme wafted into the air, carried by the steam, and worked its way into his nose, causing both his eyes and his mouth to water. One bite, and Rasp would forget his troubles. He didn¡¯t know how he knew this, he just did.

    Father leaned over the table in his direction, whispering, ¡°It¡¯s time to wake up, Raspberry.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Mother huffed as she moved to the other end of the table and sat. ¡°We are going to have a pleasant family meal for a change. Now, no more of this foolish talk. Everyone eat.¡±

    On cue, the dinner conversation rose up to a deafening hum as each dish passed from hand to hand, from one end to the next. Ordinarily Rasp would have fought tooth and nail to secure his portion, but his appetite was suddenly gone. He watched each dish pass by confused as to how something this right could possibly feel so wrong.

    ¡°Raspberry.¡±

    He followed his father¡¯s voice, locking eyes with the small man. Rasp used to hate how much they looked alike. Same small, wiry frame, and narrow face. The only difference that differentiate them was Father¡¯s age and silver hair. Rasp was fortunate that his mop of unruly tangles was the same color as mother¡¯s.

    ¡°Wake up!¡±

    Startled, Rasp released the lock of hair he was holding, swearing he saw a shimmer of silver. The surrounding hum grew louder, each individual voice blending together as the room crescendoed into blaring din. The colors swirled as Rasp¡¯s vision went fuzzy. The only detail that remained in focus was his father.

    Father leaned forward, fingertips digging into the table, and shouted, ¡°You need to wake up, boy. Wake up!¡±